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EZRA   MEEKER 

WASHINGTON,   D.    C,   JAN,    23,   1916         BORN   DEC.    29,    1830 


THE  BUSY  LIFE 


Eighty  Five  Years 


EZRA  MEEKER 


VENTURES  AND  ADVENTURES 

Sixty-three  years  of  Pioneer  Life  in  the  Old  Oregon  Country  ;"*An  Account 

of  the  Author's  Trip  Across  the  Plains  with  an  Ox  Team,  1852; 

Return  Trip,  1906-7;   His  Cruise  on  Puget  Sound,  1853; 

Trip  Through  the  Nat  chess  Pass,   1854;    Over 

the  Chilcoot  Pass;    Flat-boating  on  the 

Yukon,    1898. 


THE  OREGON  TRAIL 

AUTHOR  OP  PIONEER  "REMINISCENCES    OF    PUGKT    SOUND" — "  THE  TRA(iEDY  OK 
LESCHi"— "hop  CULTURE    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES" — "WASHINGTON 

territory  west  of  the  cascadk  mountains"— "the  ox 
team"— "uncle  Ezra's  short  stories  for 
the  children." 

PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR 


$1.50  Postpaid 
SEATTLE,  WASHINGTON 


Copyright  1916 

BY 

Ezra  Meeker 


Press  Wm.  B.  Burford 


Indianapolis 

(ii 


r  ■ 

CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I. 

Autobiosraphy. 
I?irlli    ami    Parentage — Boyhood    Days — Aversion    to    School — Early    Ambitions — 
larin  Training — Life  in  a  Printing  Office — At  Tippecanoe  as  a  Songster. 7 

CHAPTER  n. 
Time  of  My  Youth. 
Our   ()hio    Home — A    Period   of   Invention — The   Printing   Press — Our    Removal    to 

Indiana — Habits  Acquired  on  the  Trip  I.t 

CHAPTER   III. 
Early  Days  in  Indiana. 
I'm  Going  to  Be  a  Farmer — Otf  for  Iowa — An  Iowa  Winter  18 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Off  for  Oregon. 

era      Preparation — Getting  a  Partner — First  Day  Out 23 

cn 

T—  CHAPTER  V. 

-     The  Ferry  Across  the  Missouri 2(5 

>=" 

^  CHAPTER  VI 

^  Out  on  the  Plains. 

~~;      Indian  Country — The  Cholera — Extent  of  Emigration — The  Casualties 20 


CHAPTER  VII. 
alo  Chase  and  Sta 
^      Buffalo  Trails — Chase  on  the  Missouri — Stampede  on  the  Platte 37 


^^  Buffalo  Chase  and  Stampede. 

C3 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Out  on  the  Plains. 
The  Law  of  Self-Preservation — Crossing  the  Snake  River — Wagon  Beds  as  Boats — 

Down  Snake  River  in  Wagon  Boxes — On  to  Portland 30 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Floating  Down  the  River 51 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Arrival. 

.\t  Work— Moving  to  St.  Helens— Building  a  Home  57 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  First  Cabin. 

Home  Lift — A  Trip  to  Pugct  Sounil ftj 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Cruise  on  Puget  Sound. 

Building  a  Boat— Afloat  on  Puget  Sound— .\  Visit  to  tlie  Indians  69 


(iii) 

281256 


iv  Contents 

CHAPTERiXIII. 

Cruise  on  Puget  Sound. 

At  Steilacoom ^^ 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Cruise  on  Puget  Sound. 
At  Tacoma— On  Puyallup  Bay 84 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Cruise  on  Puget  Sound. 

At  Alki  Point— A  Fish  Story 91 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Cruise  on  Puget  Sound. 

Port  Townsend— Building  the  City— Colonel  Ebey 96 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

From  Columbia  River  to  Puget  Sound. 

Arrival  Home — Preparations  to  Move — The  Trip 101 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Second  Cabin. 

The  New  Home— Brother  Oliver  Returns  to  the  States 115 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Trip  Through  Natchess  Pass. 
Cross  the  Streams 122 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Trip  Through  Natchess  Pass— Cont. 
Many  Obstacles— Killing  of  Steers  to  Make  Rope— A  Brave  Boy 128 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Trip  Through  Natchess  Pass— Cont. 

Fun  with  the  Pony — Immigrants 136 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Trip  Through  Natchess  Pass— Cont. 

Desert  Lands— Lost— Crossing  the  River— Reunion 142 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Trip  Through  Natchess  Pass— Cont. 

Nearly  Home— Trouble  Over  Titles— Parting 148 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Trip  Through  Natchess  Pass— Cont. 

Home  Again— Visitors— Jay  Cooke  and  My  Pamphlet 154 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

First  Immigrants  Through  Natchess  Pass. 
HiirdTrip— Letter  from  Geo.  H.  Himes •    Id 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Building  of  the  Natchess  Pas.s  Hoad. 

Many  Obstacles— Lines  from  Winthrop— Receipts 169 


Contents  v 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
Building  of  the  Natchess  Pass  Road— Cont. 
Letter  from  A.  J.  Burge — Lawlessness — A  Great  Pioneer,  George  Bush — The  Fanning 
Mill— The  First  Cougar 178 

CHAPTER  XXVni. 

About  Indians. 

Massacre — Flight  of  Settlers 183 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Fraser  River  Stampede. 

Excitement  High — Off  for  Whatcom — The  Arrival — Where's  De  Lacy? 186 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

An  Old  Settlers'  Meeting. 

Review  of  the  Past — Lady  Sheriff — Personal  Anecdotes 19.5 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A  Chapter  on  Names. 

Seattle— Puyallup  and  .\musing  Incidents 201 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Pioneer  ReUgious  Experiences  and  Incidents. 

Aunt  Ann — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wickser — John  McLeod 206 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Wild  Animals. 
Carrie  Sees  a  Cougar — An  Unfriendly  Meeting 210 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

The  Morning  School. 

The  First  Log  School  House — Going  to  Market— Fifty  Years  .Ago 216 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

An  Early  Survey. 
The  Surveying  Party — The  Camp — Location — Value 221 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

The  Hop  Bu.siness. 

My  Hop  Venture — The  Curse  on  Hops 223 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

The  Beet  Sugar  Venture 230 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
The  History  of  a  History 231 

CILAPTER  XXXIX. 

Banking. 

Bank  President— T  he  Run  on  the  Bank 235 

CHAPTER  XL. 

The  Klondike  Venture. 

Through  White  Horse  Rapids— On  the  Yukon 238 


Vi  CoXTENTS 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  OREGON  TRAIL  MONUMENT  EXPEDITION. 

The  Ox. 
Ready  for  the  Trip — Getting  Notoriety 248 

CH.A.PTER  XLII. 

The  Start. 
Making  Camps — Out  on  the  Trail — Centraha,  Wash. — Chehalis,  Wash. — Jackson's — 
Toledo,  Wash.— Portland,  Oregon 246 

CH.\PTER  XLin. 

The  Dalles,  Oregon. 

Quotations    from    Journal — Shoeing    the    Oxen — Out    from   The    Dalles — Pendleton, 

Oregon — The  Blue  Mountains — .Meacham,  Oregon — La  Grande,  Oregon — Ladd's 

Canyon — Camp  No.  34 — Baker  City,  Oregon — Old  Mt.  Pleasant,  Oregon — Durkee, 

Oregon — Huntington — Vale,  Oregon , 255 

CH.\PTER  XLIV. 
(Jld  Fort  Boise — Parma,  Idaho — Boise,  Idaho — Twin  Falls,  Idaho — .American  Falls, 
Idaho — Pocatello,   Idaho — Soda  Springs,   Idaho — Montpelier,    Idaho — The   Mad 
Bull— The  Wounded  Buffalo— Cokeville,  Wyoming 260 

CH.APTER  XLV. 

Independence  Rock. 

The  Rocky  Mountains. 

Pacific  Springs — Sweetwater — Split  Rock — The  Devil's  Gate 271 


CH.4PTER  XLV  I. 
Fish   Creek — North   Platte — Casper,   Wyoming — Glen    Rock — Douglas,   Wyoming — 
Puyallup,  Tacoma,  Seattle — New  Changes 28) 

CH.4PTER  XLVII. 
Fort  Laramie,  Wyoming. 
Scott's  Bluff— The  Dead  of  the  Plains— The  Lone  Grave— Chimney  Rock— North 

Platte 28!) 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

Death  of  Twist. 

Gothenberg,  Nebraska — Lexington 298 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

Kearney,  Nebraska. 

C;rand  Islan.l     " ^03 


CHAPTER  I.. 
From  Indianapolis  to  Washington — Events  on  the  Way. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

Return  Trip. 

Leaving  Washington — Out  West  .\gain — From  Portland  to  SeattU'  320 


The  End 


Contents  vii 

CHAPTF.U   MI. 

-  . .   328 

C'lIAPTKH  I. III. 

The  Interim  and  Second  Trip. 

Good  Road  Movement — Tlie  Overland  Outfit  in  the  Interim — Yukon  P^xpo-iition — 
The  Trip  of  IQlO-'ll— Hunting  for  the  Trail— Dedication  of  the  Wagon  and 
Team  to  Wa.shington — .\  Rill  for  Surveying  "Pioneer  Way" — The  .Vutlior'.'^  Plea 
Before  the   Hou.se  Committee  on   .Military   .\tTairs  .331 

(•ll.\PTKU   I.I\-. 

Conquest  of  the  Oregon  Country. 

(1)  Exploration,  by  Robert  Gray,  Lewis  and  Clark  and  .lonathan  Carver — Naming 
Oregon.  (2)  Exploitation,  by  John  .Jacob  Astor,  the  Hunt  Party,  Hudson  Bay  Co. — 
Ashley,  Bonneyville  and  Wythe — (3)  Missionary;  "White  -Man's  Book  of  Heaven," 
Lee,  Parker,  Whitman  and  Spaulding  as  Missionaries — Tribute  to  Pioneers.  (4) 
Homebuilders;  American  .Settlers  (Jutnumber  English — English  give  up  Joint 
Occupancy,  Withdrawal  and  .Vshburton's  Treatv — Establishment  of  tlie  Oregon 
Trail  1S4.3— Emigration  of  18.52— Conclusions       "  343 

CHAPTER  LV. 

Pioneer  Life  in  Puyallup. 

The  Cabin — Stilly  a  Typical  Pioneer — Stilly's  Cabin  Becomes  The  Author's  Home — 
The  Ivy  Vine — Dedication  of  the  Cabin  as  "Pioneer  Park" — The  Author's  Phoni- 
graphic  Address 352 

CHAPTER  L\T. 

Pioneer  Life  in  Puyallup  \'alley. 

The  Carson  Family — The  Walker  Family — "Good  Templars  Lodge" — Holiday 
Celebrations — First  Postoffice — Mount  Rainier  Glacier — Colony  of  1853 — Indian 
Massacre  and  Flight  of  the  Settlers — Discovery  of  Coal — Acquiring  Title  of 
Land — Publication  of  "Washington  Territory  West  of  the  Cascades" — Pioneer 
Socialism — Religion  and  Schools — Allen's  Letter — Early  Settlers  Meet  in  Puyal- 
lup's  Park- Great  Public  Dinner — Strong  Program  Speech  by  Ezra  Meeker    ...  360 

CHAPTER  LVII. 

Sketches  of  Western  Life. 

"Occidental  Transcontinental  Oriental  McDonald" — His  Personal  .\ppearance — His 
Sloop — His  Prophecies 375 

CHAPTER  LVni. 

Sketches  of  Western  Life. 

"The  Prairie  Schooner" — Why  Wagon  Body  was  Boat  Shape — Crossing  Snake  River — 
Moving  Pictures  of  Crossing  Loop  Fork  of  the  Platte  River — How  the  Teams 
Crossed  the  River . .  377 

CHAPTER  LIX. 

High  Cost  of  Living. 

Cincinnati  Market  a  Hundred  Years  Ago;  No  Middlemen— .\11  Markets  Now,  All 
Middlemen — Transportation,  a  Factor  in  the  Cost  of  Living — Causes,  "High 
Living,"  Abandonment  of  Simple  Life,  Change  in  Environments  and  Extravagant 
Wants.  .  .381 


viii  Contents 

CHAPTER  LX. 
Cost  of  High  Living. 
Fortieth  Anniversary  Celebration  of  the  Completion  of  N.  P.  R.  R. — Extravagance 
and  Waste  at  the  Celebration — Supply  and  Demand  Regulates  Prices — Consumer 
Too  Far  Removed  from  Producer,  Demand  Too  Much  Service,  Buys  in  Too  Small 
Quantities — Too  Much  Money — Remedy,  Stop  Extravagance  and  Waste,  and 
Buy  With  Judgment 386 

CHAPTER  LXr. 

Preparedness. 

Witness  of  Five  Wars — Results,  Advancement  of  Civilization — Wars  Cannot  be  Averted 

— Preparedness  Gives  Advantage — It  Does  Not  Cause  War — The  Monroe  Doctrine 

and  the  "Open  Door  To  China" — No  Other  Nation  Will  Assert  Our  Rights — 

Preparedness  Does  Not  Prevent  Wars,  But  Lessens  the  Danger 395 

CHAPTER  LXH. 
How  to  Live  to  be  a  Hundred 399 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

The  Old  Ancestral  Homestead,  167t) 2 

Mt.  Tacoma 87 

We  Struck  Rapid   but  Awkward  Strokes 119 

Mt.  Ranier 137 

Type  of  Blockhouse 184 

Old  Settlers  Meeting 194 

Group  of  Hop  Houses 224 

The  Klondike  Team 240 

Ezra  Meeker's  Homestead 245 

The  Ivy-covered  Cabin 247 

Camp  in  Seattle 249 

Dedicating  Monument  at  Tenino,  Washington 250 

The  First  Boulder  Marked 257 

Baker  City  Monument 264 

The  Old  Oregon  Trail 270 

Summit  Monument 273 

Devil's  Gate 278 

An  Old  Scout 284 

Snap  Shot  on  the  Trail 290 

The  Lone  Grave 292 

Chimney  Rock 296 

Twist 298 

Broad  Street,  New  York 314 

Jim , 316 

President  Roosevelt  on  the  Way  to  View  the  Team 318 

President  Viewing  the  Team 319 

Addressing  Colored  School 324 

At  the  Yukon  Exposition 332 

Pioneer  Park,  Puyallup 354 

The  Prairie  Schooner  on  the  White  House  Grounds 378 

Dave  and  Dandy  at  the  Panama  Exposition 380 


PREFACE 


Just  why  I  should  write  a  preface  I  know  not,  except 
that  it  is  fashionable  to  do  so,  and  yet  in  the  present  case 
there  would  seem  a  little  explanation  due  the  reader,  who 
may  cast  his  eye  on  the  first  chapter  of  this  work. 

Indeed,  the  chapter,  "Early  Days  in  Indiana,"  may 
properly  be  termed  an  introduction,  though  quite  inti- 
mately connected  with  the  narrative  that  follows,  yet  not 
necessary  to  make  a  completed  story  of  the  trip  to  Oregon 
in  the  early  fifties. 

The  enlarged  scope  of  this  work,  narrating  incidents  not 
connected  with  the  Oregon  Trail  or  the  Ox  Team  expedi- 
tion, may  call  for  this  explanation,  that  the  author's 
thought  has  been  to  portray  frontier  life  in  the  Old  Oregon 
Country,  as  well  as  pioneer  life  on  the  plains;  to  live  his 
experiences  of  eighty-five  years  over  again,  and  tell  them 
in  plain,  homely  language,  to  the  end  the  later  generation 
may  know  how  the  "fathers"  lived,  what  they  did,  and 
what  they  thought  in  the  long  ago. 

An  attempt  has  been  made  to  teach  the  young  lessons 
of  industry,  frugality,  upright  and  altruistic  living  as  ex- 
emplified in  the  lives  of  the  pioneers. 

While  acknowledging  the  imperfections  of  the  work,  yet 
to  parents  I  can  sincerely  say  they  may  safely  place  this 
volume  in  the  home  without  fear  that  the  adventures  recited 
will  arouse  a  morbid  craving  in  the  minds  of  their  children. 
The  adventures  are  of  real  life,  and  incident  to  a  serious 
juirpose  in  life,  and  not  stories  of  fancy  to  make  exciting 
reading,  although  some  of  them  may  seem  as  such. 

"Truth  is  stranger  than  fiction,"  and  the  pioneers  have 
no  need  to  borrow  from  their  imagination. 

Seattle,  Washington. 


(ix) 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR 

Cloth  n.oO  Postpaid 

Address:     Ezra  Meeker,  1120  38th  Ave.  N. 
Seattle,  Wash. 


(X) 


GREETINGS 


Upon  this,  my  (Solh  biiilulay  with  good  health  remaining 
with  me  and  strength  to  prompt  the  will  to  do,  small 
wondei'  that  I  should  arise  with  thankfulness  in  my  licai-t 
for  the  many,  many  blessings  vouchsafed  to  me. 

To  my  friends  (and  enemies,  if  I  have  any)  I  dedicate 
this  volume,  to  be  known  as  "Eighty-five  Years  of  a  Busy 
Life,"  in  the  iioi)e  of  cementing  closer  companionship  and 
nuitual  good  will  to  the  end,  that  by  looking  back  into 
earlier  life,  we  may  be  guided  to  better  ways  in  the  vista 
of  years  to  come,  to  a  more  forgiving  spirit,  to  a  less  stern 
condenniation  of  the  foibles  of  others  and  a  more  joyful 
contemplation  of  life's  duties. 

Having  lived  the  simple  life  for  so  many  years  I  could 
not  now  change  to  the  more  modern  ways  of  "High  Living" 
and  would  not  if  I  could ;  nevertheless,  the  wonderful 
advance  of  art  and  science,  the  great  opi)ortunity  afforded 
for  betterment  of  life  in  so  many  ways  to  challenge  our 
admiration,  1  would  not  record  myself  as  against  innova- 
tion, as  saying,  that  all  old  ways  were  the  best  ways,  but 
I  will  say  some  of  them  were.  The  patient  reader  will 
notice  this  thouglit  developed  in  the  pages  to  follow  and 
v.diile  they  may  not  be  in  full  accord  of  the  teachings,  yet, 
it  is  the  hope  of  the  author  the  lessons  may  not  fall  upon 
deaf  ears. 

Being  profoundly  grateful  for  so  many  expressions  of 
good  will  that  have  reached  me  from  so  many  friends,  T 
will  reciprocate  by  wishing  that  each  and  every  one  of 
you  may  live  to  be  over  a  hundred  years  old,  coupled  with 
the  admonition  to  accomplish  this  you  must  be  possessed 
with  patience,  and  that  "you  nuist  keep  working  to  keep 
young. ' ' 

Now,  please  read  that  grand  inspii-cd  poem  on  next  page, 
"Work",  before  you  read  the  book,  to  see  if  you  have  not 
there  found  the  true  elixir  of  life  and  with  it  the  author's 
hope  to  reach  the  goal  beyond  the  century  mark. 

Greetings  to  all. 

(xi) 


The  Outlook,  December  2,   1914] 

WORK. 


A  SONG  OFTRIUiMPH^ 
By  Angela  Morgan. 

Work! 

Thank  God  for  the  might  of  it, 

The  ardor,  the  urge,  the  delight  of  it — 

Work  that  springs  from  the  heart's  desire. 

Setting  the  soul  and  the  brain  on  fire. 

Oh,  what  is  so  good  as  the  heat  of  it, 

And  what  is  so  glad  as  the  beat  of  it. 

And  what  is  so  kind  as  the  stern  command 

Challenging  brain  and  heart  and  hand? 

Work! 

Thank  God  for  the  pride  of  it. 

For  the  beautiful,  conquering  tide  of  it, 

Sweeping  the  life  in  its  furious  flood. 

Thrilling  the  arteries,  cleansing  the  blood, 

Mastering  stupor  and  dull  despair, 

Moving  the  dreamer  to  do  and  dare. 

Oh;  what  is  so  good  as  the  urge  of  it. 

And  what  is  so  glad  as  the  surge  of  it. 

And  what  is  so  strong  as  the  summons  deep 

Rousing  the  torpid  soul  from  sleep? 

Work! 

Thank  God  for  the  pace  of  it, 

For  the  terrible,  keen,  swift  race  of  it; 

Fiery  steeds  in  full  control. 

Nostrils  aquiver  to  greet  the  goal. 

Work,  the  power  that  drives  behind, 

Guiding  the  purposes,  taming  the  mind. 

Holding  the  runaway  wishes  back, 

Reining  the  will  to  one  steady  track, 

Speeding  the  energies  faster,  faster, 

Triumphing  over  disaster. 

Oh!  what  is  so  good  as  the  pain  of  it. 

And  what  is  so  great  as  the  gain  of  it, 

And  what  is  so  kind  as  the  cruel  goad. 

Forcing  us  on  through  the  rugged  road? 

Work! 

Thank  God  for  the  swing  of  it. 

For  the  clamoring,  hammering  ring  of  it. 

Passion  of  labor  daily  hurled 

On  the  mighty  anvils  of  the  world 

Oh,  what  is  so  fierce  as  the  flame  of  it. 

And  what  is  so  huge  as  the  aim  of  it, 

Thundering  on  through  dearth  and  doubt, 

Calling  the  plan  of  the  Maker  out; 

Work,  the  Titan,  Work,  the  friend, 

Shaping  the  earth  to  a  glorious  end; 

Draining  the  swamps  and  blasting  the  hills, 

Doing  whatever  the  spirit  wills, 

Rending  a  continent  apart 

To  answer  the  dream  of  the  Master  heart. 

Thank  God  for  a  world  where  none  may  shirk. 

Thank  God  for  the  splendor  of  work. 

(xii) 


CHAPTER  I. 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I  was  born  Dear  Iliintsville,  Butler  County,  Ohio,  about 
ten  miles  east  of  Hamilton,  Ohio.  This,  to  me,  important 
event  occurred  on  December  29,  A.  D.  1830,  hence  I  am 
many  years  past  the  usual  limit  of  three  score  years  and 
ten. 

My  father's  ancestors  came  from  England  in  1637  and 
in  1665  settled  near  Elizabeth  City,  New  Jersey,  built  a 
very  substantial  house  which  is  still  preserved,  furnished 
more  than  a  score  of  hardy  soldiers  in  the  War  of  Inde- 
pendence, and  were  noted  for  their  stalwart  strength, 
steady  habits,  and  patriotic  ardor.  My  father  had  lost 
nothing  of  the  original  sturdy  instincts  of  the  stock  nor 
of  the  stalwart  strengih,  incident  to  his  ancestral  breeding. 
I  remember  that  for  three  years,  at  Carlyle's  flouring  mill 
in  the  then  western  suburbs  of  Indianapolis,  Ind.,  he 
worked  18  hours  a  day,  as  miller.  He  had  to  be  on  duty 
by  7  o'clock  a.  m.,  and  remained  on  duty  until  1  o'clock 
the  next  morning,  and  could  not  leave  the  mill  for  dinner ; 
— all  this  for  $20  per  month,  and  bran  for  the  cow,  and 
yet  his  health  was  good  and  strength  seemed  the  same  as 
when  he  began  the  ordeal.  My  mother's  maiden  name  was 
Phoeba  Baker.  A  strong  English  and  Welch  strain  of 
blood  ran  in  her  veins,  but  I  know  nothing  farther  back 
than  my  grandfather  Baker,  who  settled  in  Butler  County, 
Ohio,  in  the  year  1804,  or  thereabouts.  My  mother,  like 
my  father,  could  and  did  endure  continuous  long  hours 
of  severe  labor  without  much  discomfort,  in  her  household 
duties.  I  have  knoAvn  her  frequently  to  -patch  and  mend 
our  clothing  until  11  o'clock  at  night  and  yet  would  in- 
variably be  up  in  the  morning  by  4:00  and  resume  her 
labors. 

Botli  my  parents  were  sincere,  though  not  austere 
Christian  people,  my  mother  in  particular  inclining  to  a 

2—1958 


Vkntures  and  Adventures  3 

liberal  faith,  but  both  were  in  early  days  members  of  the 
''Disciples,"  or  as  sometimes  known  as  "Newlites, "  after- 
waids,  I  believe,  merged  witli  the  "Christian"  ehurch, 
popularly  known  as  the  "Campbellites, "  and  were  ardent 
admirers  of  Love  Jameson,  who  presided  so  long  over  the 
Christian  organization  at  Indianapolis,  and  whom  I  par- 
ticularly remember  as  one  of  the  sweetest  singers  that  1 
ever  heard. 

Small  wonder  that  witli  such  i)arents  and  witli  such 
surroundings  I  am  able  to  say  that  for  fifty-eight  years  of 
niarried  life  I  have  never  been  sick  in  bed  a  single  day, 
and  that  I  can  and  have  endured  long  hours  of  labor 
during  my  whole  life,  and  what  is  particularly  gratifying 
that  I  can  truthfully  say  that  I  have  always  loved  my 
work  and  that  I  never  watched  for  the  sun  to  go  down  to 
relieve  me  from  the  burden  of  labor. 

"Burden  of  labor?"  Why  should  any  man  call  labor 
a  burden?  It's  the  sweetest  pleasure  of  life,  if  we  will 
but  look  aright.  Give  me  nothing  of  the  "man  with  the 
hoe"  sentiment,  as  depicted  by  Markham,  but  let  me  see 
the  man  with  a  light  heart;  that  labors;  that  fulfills  a 
destiny  the  good  God  has  given  him ;  that  fi.lls  an  honored 
place  in  life  even  if  in  an  hum1)le  station;  that  looks  upon 
the  bright  side  of  life  while  striving  as  best  he  may  to 
do  his  duty.  I  am  led  into  these  thoughts  by  what  I  see 
around  about  me,  so  changed  from  that  of  my  boyhood 
days  where  labor  was  held  to  be  honorable,  even  though 
in  humble  stations. 

But,  to  return  to  my  story.  My  earliest  recollection, 
curiously  enough,  is  of  my  schoolboy  days,  of  which  I 
bad  so  few.  I  was  certainly  not  five  years  old  when  a 
di'unken,  biiital  school  teacher  undertook  to  spank  me 
while  holding  me  on  his  knees  because  I  did  not  speak 
a  word  plainly.  That  is  the  first  fight  I  have  any  recol- 
lection of,  and  would  hardly  remember  that  but  for  the 
witnesses,  one  of  them  my  oldest  brother,  who  saw  the 
struggle,  where  my  teeth  did  such  excellent  work  as  to 
draw   blood   quite   freely.     What   a   spectacle   that,   of   a 


4  A  Busy  Life 

half-drimken  teacher  maltreating  his  scholars !  But  tlieu 
that  was  a  time  before  a  free  school  system,  and  when 
the  parson  would  not  hesitate  to  take  a  "wee  bit,"  and 
when,  if  the  decanter  was  not  on  the  sideboard,  the  jug 
and  gourd  served  well  in  the  field  or  house.  To  harvest 
without  whisky  in  the  field  was  not  to  be  thought  of ; 
nobody  ever  heard  of  a  log-rolling  or  barn-raising  with- 
out whisky.  And  so  I  will  say  to  the  zealous  temperance 
reformers,  be  of  good  cheer,  for  the  world  has  moved  in 
these  eighty-five  years.  Be  it  said,  though,  to  the  ever- 
lasting honor  of  my  father,  that  he  set  his  head  firmly 
against  the  practice,  and  said  his  grain  should  rot  in  the 
field  before  he  would  supply  whisky  to  his  harvest  hands, 
and  I  have  no  recollections  of  ever  but  once  tasting  any 
alcoholic  liquors  in  my  boyhood  days. 

I  did,  however,  learn  to  smoke  when  very  young.  It 
came  about  in  this  way :  My  mother  always  smoked,  as 
long  as  I  can  remember.  Women  those  days  smoked  as 
well  as  men,  and  nothing  was  thought  of  it. 

"Well,  that  was  before  the  time  of  matches,  or  leastwise, 
it  was  a  time  when  it  was  thought  necessary  to  economize 
in  their  use,  and  mother,  who  was  a  corpulent  woman, 
would  send  me  to  put  a  coal  in  her  pipe,  and  so  I  would 
take  a  whiff  or  two,  just  to  get  it  started,  you  know,  which, 
however,  soon  developed  into  the  habit  of  lingering  to  keep 
it  going.  But  let  me  be  just  to  myself, — for  more  than 
thirty  years  ago  I  threw  away  my  pipe  and  have  never 
smoked  since,  and  never  will,  and  noM'  to  those  smokers 
who  say  they  "can't  quit"  I  want  to  call  their  attention 
to  one  case  of  a  man  who  did. 

My  next  recollection  of  school-days  was  after  father  had 
moved  to  Loekland,  Ohio,  then  ten  miles  north  of  Cincin- 
nati, now,  I  presume,  a  suburb  of  that  great  city.  I  played 
"hookej''"  instead  of  going  to  school,  but  one  day  while 
under  the  canal  bridge  the  noise  of  passing  teams  so 
frightened  me  that  I  ran  home  and  betrayed  himself.  Did 
my  mother  whip  me?  Why,  God  bless  her  dear  old  soul, 
no.     Whipping  of  children,  though,  both  at  home  and  in 


V|';nti'res  and  Adventurer  5 

the  scliool-rooiii,  was  tlicii  ahoiil  as  coiiimoii  as  editing  one's 
breakfast;  l)iit  iii\-  parents  did  not  think  it  was  iieeessary 
to  rule  by  the  rotl,  thouiiii  then  tlieir  family  government 
was  exceptional.  And  so  we  see  7iow  a  dift'ei-ent  I'ule  pre- 
vailing, and  see  that  the  woi-ld  does  move  and  is  getting 
better. 

After  my  father's  removal  to  Indiana  times  were  "hard/' 
as  the  common  expression  goes,  and  all  membei-s  of  the 
household  for  a  season  were  called  upon  to  contribute  tlieir 
mite.  I  drove  four  yoke  of  oxen  for  twenty-five  cents 
a  day,  and  a  part  of  that  time  boarded  at  home  at  that. 
This  was  on  the  Wabash  where  oak  grubs  grew,  as  father 
often  said,  "as  thick  as  hair  on  a  dog's  back,"  but  not 
so  thick  as  that.  But  we  used  to  force  the  big  plow  through 
and  cut  grubs  with  the  plow  shear,  as  big  as  my  wrist ; 
and  when  we  saw  a  patch  of  them  ahead,  then  was  when 
I  learned  how  to  halloo  and  rave  at  the  poor  oxen  and 
inconsiderately  whip  them,  but  fiather  wouldn't  let  me 
swear  at  them.  Let  me  say  parenthetically  that  I  have 
long  since  discontinued  such  a  foolish  practice,  and  that 
1  now  talk  to  my  oxen  in  a  convei'sational  tone  of  voice 
and  use  the  whip  sparingly.  When  father  moved  to  In- 
dianapolis, I  think  in  1842,  "times"  seemed  harder  than 
ever,  and  I  was  put  to  work  wherever  an  opportunity  for 
employment  olfered,  and  encouraged  by  my  mother  to  seek 
odd  jobs  and  keep  the  money  myself,  she,  however,  becom- 
ing my  banker ;  and  in  three  years  I  had  actually  accumu 
lated  $37.00.  My!  but  what  a  treasure  that  was  to  me, 
and  what  a  bond  of  confidence  between  my  mother  and 
myself,  for  no  one  else,  as  I  thought,  knew  about  my 
treasure.  I  found  out  afterwards,  though,  that  father  knew 
about  it  all  the  time. 

My  ambition  was  to  get  some  land.  I  had  heard  there 
was  a  forty-acre  tract  in  Hendricks  County  (Indiana)  yet 
to  be  entered  at  $1.25  per  acre,  and  as  soon  as  I  could 
get  $50.00  together  I  meant  to  hunt  up  that  land  and 
secure  it.  I  used  to  dream  about  that  land  day  tiines 
as  well   as  at   night.     I  sawed  wood   and  cut  each  stick 


6  A  Busy  Life 

twice  i'oi-  Iweuty-five  cents  n  cord,  and  enjoyed  the  expe- 
rience, for  at  night  L  conhl  add  to  my  treasure.  It  was 
because  my  mind  did  not  run  on  school  work  and  because 
of  my  restless  disposition  that  my  mother  allowed  me  to 
do  this  instead  of  compelling  me  to  attend  school,  and 
which  cut  down  my  ]'eal  schooJboy  days  to  less  than  six 
months.  It  was,  to  say  the  least,  a  dangerous  experiment 
and  one  which  only  a  mother  (who  knows  her  child  better 
than  all  others)  dare  take,  and  I  will  not  by  any  means 
advise  other  mothers  to  adopt  such  a  course. 

Then  when  did  you  get  your  education '  the  casual 
reader  may  ask.  I  will  tell  you  a  story.  When  in  1870 
I  wrote  my  first  book  (long  since  out  of  print),  "Wash- 
ington Territory  West  of  the  Cascade  Mountains,"  and 
submitted  the  work  to  the  Eastern  public,  a  copy  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Jay  Cooke,  who  then  had  six  power  presses 
i-unning  advertising  the  Northern  Pacific  railroad,  and  he 
at  once  took  up  my  whole  edition.  Mr.  Cooke,  whom  I 
met,  closely  ({uestioned  me  as  to  where  I  was  educated. 
After  having  answered  his  many  queries  about  my  life 
on  the  frontier  he  would  not  listen  to  my  disclaimer  that 
I  was  not  an  educated  man,  referring  to  the  work  in  his 
hand.  The  fact  then  dawned  on  me  that  it  was  the  read- 
ing of  the  then  current  literature  of  the  day  that  had 
taught  me.  I  answered  that  the  New  York  Tribune  had 
educated  me,  as  I  had  then  been  a  close  reader  of  that 
paper  for  eighteen  years,  and  it  was  there  I  got  my  pure 
English  diction,  if  I  possessed  it.  We  received  mails  only 
twice  a  month  for  a  long  time,  and  sometimes  onlj^  once  a 
month,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  all  .the  matter  in  the 
paper  was  read  and  much  of  it  re-read  and  studied  in  the 
cabin  and  practiced  in  the  field.  However,  I  do  not  set 
my  face  against  school  trainiiig,  but  can  better  express 
my  meaning  by  the  (|uaiiit  saying  that  "too  much  of  a 
good  thing  is  more  than  enough,"  a  i)hrase  in  a  way  sense- 
less, which  yet  conveys  a  deeper  meaning  than  the  literal 
words  express.  The  context  will  show  the  lack  of  a  com- 
mon school  education,  after  all,  was  not  entirely  for  want 


Ventures  and  Adventures  7 

of  an  opportunity,  but  from  my  aversion  to  confinement 
and  preference  for  work  to  study. 

In  those  days  apprenticeship  was  quite  common,  and 
it  was  not  thought  to  be  a  disgrace  for  a  child  to  be 
"])ound  out"  until  he  was  twenty-one,  the  more  especially 
if  this  involved  learning  a  trade.  Father  took  a  notion 
he  would  "bind  me  out"  to  a  Mr.  Arthens,  the  mill  owner 
at  Lockland,  who  was  childless,  and  took  me  with  him 
one  day  to  talk  it  over.  Finally,  Avhen  asked  how  I  would 
like  the  change,  I  promptly  replied  that  it  would  be  all 
right  if  Mrs.  Arthens  would  "do  up  my  sore  toes",  where- 
upon there  was  such  an  outburst  of  merriment  that  I 
always  rememl^ered  it.  We  must  remember  that  boys  in 
those  days  did  not  wear  shoes  in  summer  and  quite  often 
not  in  winter  either.  But  mother  put  a  quietus  on  the 
whole  business  and  said  the  family  must  not  be  divided, 
and  it  was  not,  and  in  that  she  was  right.  Give  me  the 
humble  home  for  a  child,  that  is  a  home  in  fact,  rather 
tlian  the  grandest  palace  where  home  life  is  but  a  sham. 

I  come  now  to  au  important  event  of  my  life,  when 
father  moved  from  Lockland,  Ohio,  to  near  Covington, 
Indiana.  I  was  not  yet  seven  years  old,  but  walked  all 
the  way  behind  the  wagon  and  began  building  "castles  in 
the  air,"  which  is  the  first  (but  by  no  means  the  last)  that 
I  remember.  We  were  going  out  to  Indiana  to  be  farmers, 
and  it  was  here,  near  the  banks  of  the  Wabash,  that  1 
learned  the  art  of  driving  four  yoke  of  oxen  to  a  breaking 
plow,  without  swearing. 

That  reminds  me  of  an  after-experience,  the  summer  1 
was  nineteen.  Uncle  John  Kinworthy  (good  old  soul  he 
was),  an  ardent  Quaker,  who  lived  a  mile  or  so  out  from 
Bridgeport,  Indiana,  asked  me  one  day  while  I  was  passing 
his  place  with  three  yoke  of  oxen  to  haul  a  heavy  cider 
press  beam  in  place.  This  led  the  oxen  through  the  fi-ont 
dooryai-d  and  in  full  sight  and  hearing  of  three  l)uxom 
Quaker  girls,  who  either  stood  in  the  door  or  poked  their 
heads  out  of  the  window,  in  company  with  their  good 
mother.     Go  through  the  front  yard  past  those  girls  the 


8  A  Bi^sY  Life 

cattle  would  not,  and  kept  doubling  back,  first  on  one  side 
and  then  on  the  other.  Uncle  Johnny,  noticing  I  did  not 
swear  at  the  cattle,  and  attributing  the  absence  of  oaths  to 
the  presence  of  ladies,  or  maybe,  like  a  good  many  others, 
he  thought  oxen  could  not  be  driven  without  swearing  at 
them,  sought  an  opportunity,  when  the  mistress  of  tlu^ 
house  could  not  hear  him,  and  said  in  a  low  tone,  "If 
thee  can  do  any  better,  thee  had  better  let  out  the  word." 
Poor,  good  old  soul,  he  doubtless  justified  himself  in  his 
own  mind  that  it  was  no  more  sin  to  swear  all  the  time 
than  part  of  the  time;  and  why  is  it?  I  leave  the  answer 
to  that  person,  if  he  can  be  found,  that  never  swears. 

Yes,  I  say  again,  give  me  the  humble  home  for  a  child, 
that  is  a  home  in  fact,  rather  than  the  grandest  palace 
where  home  life  is  but  a  sham.  And  right  here  is  where 
this  generation  has  a  grave  problem  to  solve,  if  it's  not 
the  gravest  of  the  age,  the  severance  of  child  life  from  the 
real  home  and  the  real  home  influences,  by  the  factory 
child  labor,  the  boarding  schools,  the  rush  for  city  life, 
and  so  many  others  of  like  influences  at  work,  that  one 
can  only  take  time  to  mention  examples. 

And  now  the  reader  will  ask,  What  do  you  mean  by 
the  home  life?  and  to  answer  that  I  will  relate  some  fea- 
tures of  my  early  home  life,  though  by  no  means  would 
say  that  I  would  want  to  return  to  all  the  ways  of  "ye 
olden  times." 

My  mother  always  expected  each  child  to  have  a  duty 
to  perform,  as  well  as  time  to  play.  Light  labor,  to  be 
sure,  but  laboi";  something  of  service.  Our  diet  was  so 
simple,  the  mere  mention  of  it  may  create  a  smile  with 
the  casual  reader.  The  mush  pot  was  a  great  factor  in 
our  home  life;  a  great  heavy  iron  pot  that  hung  on  the 
crane  in  the  chimney  corner  where  the  mush  would  slowly 
bubble  and  sj)lutter  over  or  near  a  bed  of  oak  coals  for 
half  the  afternoon.  And  such  mush,  always  made  from 
yellow  corn  meal  and  cooked  tlireo  hours  or  more.  This, 
eaten  with  plenty  of  frtssh,  rich  milk,  comprised  the  supper 
for  the  children.     Tea?     Not  to  l)e  thought  of.     Sugar? 


Ventures  and  Adventures  9 

It  was  too  expensive — cost  fifteen  to  eighteen  cents  a 
pound,  and  at  a  time  it  took  a  week's  la))Or  to  earn  as 
much  as  a  day's  labor  now.  Clieaj)  molasses,  sometimes, 
but  not  often.  Meat,  not  more  than  once  a  day,  but  eggs 
in  abundance.  Evei-ytliing  fallier  had  to  sell  was  low- 
priced,  while  everything  mother  unist  bu}'  at  the  store  was 
high.  Only  to  think  of  it,  you  who  complain  of  the  hard 
lot  of  the  workers  of  this  generation :  wheat  twenty-five 
cents  a  bushel,  corn  fifteen  cents,  pork  two  and  two  and 
a  lialf  cents  a  pound,  with  bacon  sometimes  used  as  fuel 
by  the  reckless,  racing  steamboat  captains  of  the  Ohio  and 
Mississippi.  But  when  we  got  onto  the  farm  with  abun- 
dance of  fruit  and  vegetal)les,  with  plenty  of  pumpkin  pies 
and  apple  dumplings,  our  cup  of  joy  was  full,  and  we 
were  the  happiest  mortals  on  earth.  As  I  have  said,  4 :00 
0  'clock  scarcely  ever  found  mother  in  bed,  and  until  within 
very  recent  years  I  can  say  that  5:00  o'clock  almost  inva- 
I'iably  finds  me  up.  Habit,  do  you  say?  No,  not  wholly, 
though  that  may  have  something  to  do  with  it,  but  I  get 
up  early  because  I  want  to,  and  because  I  have  something 
to  do. 

When  I  was  born,  thirty  miles  of  railroad  comprised  the 
whole  mileage  of  the  United  States,  and  this  only  a  tram- 
way. Now,  how  many  hundred  thousand  miles  I  know 
not,  but  many  miles  over  the  two  hundred  thousand  mark. 
When  I  crossed  the  great  states  of  Illinois  and  Iowa  on 
my  way  to  Oregon  in  1852  not  a  mile  of  railroad  was  seen 
in  either  state.  Only  four  years  before,  the  first  line  was 
built  in  Indiana,  really  a  tramway,  from  Madison,  on  the 
Ohio  River,  to  Indianapolis.  AVhat  a  furore  the  building 
of  that  railroad  created !  Earnest,  honest  men  opposed 
the  building  just  as  sincerely  as  men  now  advocate  public 
ownership;  both  propositions  are  fallacious,  the  one  long 
since  exploded,  the  other  in  due  time,  as  sure  to  die  out 
as  the  first.  My  father  was  a  strong  advocate  of  the  rail- 
roads, but  I  caught  the  arguments  on  the  other  side  advo- 
cated with  such  vehemence  as  to  have  the  sound  of  anger. 
What  will  our  farmers  do  with  their  hay  if  all  the  teams 


10  A  Busy  Life 

that  are  hauliug  freight  to  the  Ohio  River  are  thrown  out 
of  emplojaueut?  What  will  the  tavern  keepers  do?  What 
will  become  of  the  wagoners?  A  hundred  such  queries 
woukl  be  asked  by  the  opponents  of  the  railroad  and,  to 
themselves,  triumphantly  answered  that  the  country  would 
be  ruined  if  railroads  were  built.  Nevertheless,  Indian- 
apolis has  grown  from  ten  thousand  to  much  over  two  hun- 
dred thousand,  notwithstanding  the  city  enjoj^ed  the  un- 
usual distinction  of  being  the  first  terminal  city  in  the 
state  of  Indiana.  I  remember  it  was  the  boast  of  the  rail- 
road magnates  of  that  day  that  they  would  soon  increase 
the  speed  of  their  trains  to  fourteen  miles  an  hour, — this 
when  they  were  running  twelve. 

In  the  year  1845  a  letter  came  from  Grandfather  Baker 
to  my  mother  that  he  would  give  her  a  thousand  dollars 
with  which  to  buy  a  farm.  The  burning  question  with 
my  father  and  mother  was  how  to  get  that  money  out  from 
Ohio  to  Indiana.  They  actually  went  in  a  covered  wagon 
to  Ohio  for  it  and  hauled  it  home,  all  silver,  in  a  box.  This 
silver  was  nearly  all  foreign  coin.  Prior  to  that  time,  but 
a  few  million  dollars  had  been  coined  by  the  United  States 
Government.  Grandfather  Baker  had  accumulated  this 
money  by  marketing  small  things  in  Cincinnati,  twenty- 
five  miles  distant.  I  have  heard  my  mother  tell  of  going 
to  market  on  horseback  with  grandfather  many  times, 
carrying  eggs,  butter  and  even  live  chickens  on  the  horse 
she  rode.  Grandfather  would  not  go  in  debt,  and  so  he 
lived  on  his  farm  a  long  time  without  a  wagon,  but  finally 
became  wealthy,  and  was  reputed  to  have  a  "barrel  of 
money"  (silver,  of  course),  out  of  which  store  the  thou- 
sand dollars  mentioned  came.  It  took  nearly  a  whole  day 
to  count  this  thousand  dollars,  as  there  seemed  to  be  nearly 
every  nation's  coin  on  earth  represented,  and  the  "tables" 
(of  value)  had  to  be  consulted,  the  particular  coins  counted, 
and  their  aggi-egate  value  computed. 

It  was  tills  money  that  bought  tiie  farm  five  miles  south- 
west of  Indianapolis,  where  I  received  my  first  real  farm 
training.      Father    had    advanced    ideas    about    farming, 


Ventures  and  Adventures  11 

though  a  miller  by  trade,  and  early  taught  me  some  valu- 
able lessons  I  never  forgot.  We  (I  say  "we"  advisedly, 
as  father  continued  to  work  in  the  mill  and  left  me  in 
charge  of  the  farm)  soon  brought  up  the  run-down  farm 
to  produce  twenty-three  bushels  of  wheat  per  acre  instead 
of  ten,  by  the  rotation  of  corn,  and  clover  and  then  wheat. 
But  there  was  no  money  in  farming  at  the  then  prevail- 
ing prices,  and  the  land,  for  which  father  paid  ten  dollai's 
an  acre,  would  not  yield  a  rental  e(|ual  to  the  interest  on 
the  money.  Now  that  same  land  has  recently  sold  for  six 
hundred  dollars  an  acre. 

For  a  time  I  worked  in  the  Journal  printing  office  for 
8.  Y.  P>.  Noel,  who,  T  think,  was  the  publisher  of  the 
Journal,  and  also  printed  a  free-soil  paper.  A  part  of 
my  duty  was  to  deli\-er  those  papej-s  to  subscribers,  who 
treated  me  civilly,  but  when  I  was  caught  on  the  streets 
of  Indianapolis  with  the  papers  in  my  hand  I  was  sure 
of  abuse  from  some  one,  and  a  number  of  times  narrowly 
escaped  personal  violence.  In  the  office  I  worked  as  roller 
boy,  but  known  as  "the  devil,"  a  term  that  annoyed  me 
not  a  little.  The  pressman  was  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Wood.  In  the  same  room  was  a  power  press,  the  power 
being  a  stalwart  negro  who  turned  a  crank.  We  used  to 
race  with  the  power  pi"ess,  when  I  would  fly  the  sheets, 
that  is,  take  them  off  when  printed  with  one  hand  and  roll 
the  type  with  the  other.  This  so  pleased  Noel  that  he 
anvanced  my  wages  to  $1.50  a  week. 

The  present  generation  can  have  no  conception  of  the 
brutal  virulence  of  the  advocates  of  slavery  against  the 
"nigger"  and  "nigger  lovers,"  as  all  were  known  who 
did  not  join  in  the  crusade  against  the  negroes. 

One  day  we  heard  a  commotion  on  the  streets,  and  u])on 
inquiry  were  told  that  "they  had  just  killed  a  nigger  up 
the  street,  that's  all,"  and  went  back  to  work  shocked, 
but  could  do  nothing.  But  when  a  little  later  word  came 
that  it  was  Wood's  brother  that  had  led  the  mob  and 
that  it  was  "old  Jimmy  Blake's  man"  (who  was  known 
as  a  sober,   inoffensive   colored   iiuin)    consternation  seized 


12  A  Busy  Life 

Wood  as  Avith  an  iron  gvip.  His  grief  was  inconsolable. 
The  negro  had  been  set  upon  by  the  mob  just  because  he 
was  a  negro  and  for  no  other  reason,  and  brutally  mur- 
dered. That  murder,  coupled  with  the  abuse  I  had  received 
at  the  hands  of  this  same  element,  set  me  to  thinking,  and 
I  then  and  there  embraced  the  anti-slavery  doctrines  and 
ever  after  adhered  to  them  until  the  (|uestion  was  settled. 

One  of  the  subscribers  to  whom  I  delivered  that  anti- 
slavery  paper  was  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  who  had  then 
not  attained  the  fame  that  came  to  him  later  in  life,  but 
to  whom  I  became  attached  by  his  kind  treatment  and 
gentle  words  he  always  found  time  to  utter.  He  was  then, 
I  think  the  pastor  of  the  Congregational  Church  that  faced 
the  "Governor's  Cii-cle. "  Tlie  church  has  long  since  been 
torn  down. 

One  episode  of  my  life  I  remember  because  I  thought 
my  i)arents  were  in  the  wrong.  Vocal  music  was  taught 
in  singing  school,  almost.  T  might  say,  as  regular  as  day 
schools.  I  was  passionately  fond  of  music,  and  before  the 
change  came  had  a.  splendid  alto  voice,  and  became  a 
leader  in  my  part  of  the  class.  This  coming  to  the  notice 
of  the  trustees  of  Beecher 's  church,  an  effort  was  made 
to  have  me  join  the  choir.  iMother  first  objected  because 
my  clothes  were  not  good  enough,  whereupon  an  offer  was 
made  to  suitably  clothe  me  and  pay  something  besides ; 
but  father  objected  because  he  did  not  want  me  to  listen 
to  preaching  other  than  the  sect  (Campbellite)  to  which 
he  belonged.  The  incident  set  me  to  thinking,  and  finally 
drove  me,  young  as  T  was,  into  the  liberal  faith,  thougli 
I  dared  not  openly  espouse  it.  In  those  days  many  min- 
isters openly  preached  of  endless  punishment  in  a  lake  of 
fire,  but  I  never  could  believe  that  doctrine,  and  yet  their 
words  would  carry  terror  into  my  heart.  The  ways  of 
the  world  are  better  now  in  this,  as  in  many  other  respects. 

Another  episode  of  my  life  while  workijig  in  the  print- 
ing office  T  have  reineiiibered  vividly  all  lliese  y(>ars.  Dur- 
ing the  campaign  of  1844  the  Whigs  held  a  second  gather- 
ing on  the  Tippecanoe  battle-ground.     Tt  could  hardly  be 


Vl'lNTlfRES    AND    AdVKNTURES  13 

called  a  convention.  A  better  name  for  the  gathering 
wonld  be  a  political  camp-meeting.  The  people  came  in 
wagons,  on  lior.sel)ack,  a-foot — any  way  to  get  there — and 
camped  jnst  like  ])eople  nsed  to  do  in  their  religions  camp- 
meetings.  The  jonrneymen  printers  of  the  Jonrnal  offi  -c 
planned  to  go  in  a  covered  dead-ax  wagon,  and  signitied 
they  would  make  a  place  for  the  "devil."  if  his  parents 
w^ould  let  him  go  along.  This  was  speedily  arranged  with 
mother,  who  always  took  charge  of  such  matters.  The 
proposition  coming  to  Noel's  cars  he  said  foi-  the  men  to 
print  me  some  campaign  songs,  which  they  did  with  a  will, 
Wood  running  them  off  the  press  after  night  while  I  rolled 
the  type  for  him.  My!  wasn't  I  the  proudest  boy  that 
evei"  walked  the  earth?  Visions  of  a  pocket  full  of  money 
haunted  me  almost  day  and  night  until  we  arrived  on 
the  battletield.  But  lo  and  behold,  nobody  would  pay  any 
attention  to  me.  Bands  of  music  were  playing  here  and 
there ;  glee  clubs  would  sing  and  march  first  on  one  side 
of  the  ground  and  then  the  other;  processions  were  march- 
ing and  the  crowds  surging,  making  it  necessary  for  one 
to  look  out  and  not  get  run  over.  Coupled  with  this,  the 
rain  would  pour  down  in  torrents,  but  the  marching  and 
countermarching  went  on  all  the  same  and  continued  for 
a  week.  An  elderly  journeyman  printer  named  May,  who 
in  a  way  stood  sponsor  for  our  party,  told  me  if  I  would 
get  up  on  the  fence  and  sing  my  songs  the  people  would 
buy  them,  and  sure  enough  the  crowds  came  and  I  sold 
every  copy  I  had,  and  went  home  with  eleven  dollars  in 
my  pocket,  the  richest  boy  on  earth. 

It  was  about  this  time  the  start  was  made  of  printing 
the  Indianapolis  News,  a  paper  that  has  thriven  all  these 
after  years.  These  same  rollicking  printers  that  comprised 
the  party  to  the  battle-ground  put  their  heads  together 
to  have  some  fun,  and  began  printing  out  of  hours  a  small 
9x11  sheet  filled  with  short  pai-agraphs  of  sharp  sayings 
of  men  and  things  about  town,  some  more  expressive  than 
elegant,  and  some,  in  fact,  not  fit  for  polite  ears;  but  the 
pith  of  the  matter  was  they  treated   only  of  things  that 


14  A  Bttsy  Life 

were  true  and  of  men  moving  in  the  highest  circles.  I 
cannot  recall  the  given  names  of  any  of  these  men.  May, 
the  elderly  man  before  referred  to,  a  man  named  Finly, 
and  another.  Elder,  were  the  leading  spirits  in  the  enter- 
l)rise.  Wood  did  the  presswork  and  my  share  was  to  ink 
the  type  and  in  part  stealthily  distribute  the  papers,  for 
it  was  a  great  secret  where  they  came  from  at  the  start — 
all  this  "just  for  the  fnn  of  the  thing,"  but  the  sheet 
caused  so  much  conunent  and  became  sought  after  so  much 
that  the  mask  Avas  thrown  off  and  the  little  paper  launched 
as  a  "semi-occasional"  publication  and  "sold  by  carrier 
only,"  all  this  after  hours,  when  the  regular  day's  work 
was  finished.  I  picked  up  quite  a  good  many  fip-i-na-bits 
(a  coin  representing  the  value  of  6}  cents)  myself  from 
the  sale  of  these.  After  a  while  the  paper  was  published 
regularly,  a  rate  established,  and  the  little  paper  took  its 
])lace  among  the  regular  publications  of  the  day.  This 
writing  is  altogether  from  memoiy  of  occurrences  seventy 
years  ago,  and  may  be  faulty  in  detail,  but  the  main 
facts  are  true,  which  probably  will  be  borne  out  by  the 
files  of  the  great  newspaper  that  has  grown  from  the  seed 
sown  by  those  restless  journeymen  printers. 

It  seems  though  that  T  was  not  "cut  out"  for  a  printer. 
My  inclination  ran  more  to  the  open  air  life,  and  so  father 
l)laced  me  on  the  farm  as  soon  as  the  purchase  was  made, 
and  left  me  in  full  charge  of  the  work,  while  he  turned 
his  attention  to  milling.  Be  it  said  that  I  early  turned 
my  attention  to  the  girls  as  well  as  to  the  farm,  married 
young — befoi'e  T  had  reached  the  age  of  twenty-one,  and 
i-an  truly  say  this  was  a  happy  venture,  for  •  we  lived 
liappily  together  for  fifty-eight  years  before  the  call  came 
and  now  there  are  thirty-six  descendants  to  revere  the 
name  of  the  sainted  mother. 

And  now  for  a  little  insight  into  these  times  of  precious 
memories  that  never  fade,  and  always  lend  gladness  to 
the  heart. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  15 

CHAPTER  II. 

CHILDIKJOD    DAYS. 

My  mother  said  I  was  "always  the  busiest  young "eu  she 
ever  saw,"  which  meant  I  was  restless  from  the  beginning 
— born  so. 

According  to  the  best  information  obtainal)U\  I  was 
born  in  a  log  cabin,  where  the  fireplace  was  nearly  as 
wide  as  the  cabin.  The  two  doors  on  opposite  sides  ad- 
mitted the  horse,  dragging  the  backlog,  to  enter  in  one. 
and  go  out  at  the  other,  and  of  course  the  solid  puneheon 
floor  defied  injury  from  rough  treatment. 

The  crane  swung  to  and  fro  to  regulate  the  bubbling 
mush  in  the  pot.  The  skillet  and  dutch  oven  occupied 
places  of  favor,  instead  of  the  cook  stove,  to  bake  the  i)one 
or  johnny  cake,  or  to  parch  the  corn,  or  to  fry  the  venison, 
which  was  then  obtainable  in  the  wilds  of  Ohio. 

A  curtain  at  the  farther  end  of  the  cabin  marked  the 
confines  of  a  bed  chamber  for  the  "old  folk",  while  the 
elder  children  climbed  the  ladder  nailed  to  the  wall  to 
the  loft  of  loose  clapboard  that  rattled  when  trod  upon 
and  where  the  pallets  were  so  near  the  roof  that  the  patter 
of  the  rain  made  music  to  the  ear,  and  the  spray  of  the 
falling  water,  not  infrequently,  would  baptize  the  "tow- 
heads"  left  uncovered. 

Mother  used  to  give  us  boys  mush  and  milk  for  supper, 
and  only  that,  and  then  turned  us  out  to  romp  or  play 
or  do  up  chores  as  the  case  might  be,  and  sometimes  as 
I  now  think  of  it,  we  must  almost  have  made  a  burden 
of  life  for  her,  but  she  always  seemed  to  think  that  any- 
thing we  did  in  the  way  of  antics  was  funny  and  about 
right. 

It  is  mete  to  recall  to  mind  that  this  date  (of  my  birth) 
1830,  was  just  after  the  first  railroad  was  built  (1826)  in 
the  United  States,  just  after  friction  matches  were  dis- 
covered (1827),  just  when  the  first  locomotive  was  run 
(1829),   and   "daguerreotype"   was   invented.      Following 


16  A  Busy  Life 

these  came  the  McCormick  reaper,  immortalizing  a  name ; 
the  introduction  of  photography  (1889),  and  finally  the 
telegraph  (1844)  to  hand  down  the  name  of  Morse  to  all 
future  generations  as  long  as  history  is  recorded.  Then 
came  the  sewing  machine  (1846)  to  lighten  the  housewife's 
labor  and  make  possible  the  vast  advance  in  adornment  in 
dress. 

The  few  pioneers  left  will  remember  how  the  teeth  were 
"yanked"  out,  and  he  must  "grin  and  bear  it"  until 
chloroform  came  into  use  (1847),  the  beginning  of  easing 
the  pain  in  surgical  work  and  the  near  cessation  of  blood- 
letting for  all  sorts  of  ills  to  which  the  race  was  heir. 

The  world  had  never  heard  of  artesian  wells  until  after 
I  was  eleven  years  old  (1841).  Then  came  the  Atlantic 
cable  (1858),  and  the  discovery  of  coal  oil  (1859).  Time 
and  events  combined  to  revolutionize  the  affairs  of  the 
world.  I  well  remember  the  "power"  printing  press  (the 
power  being  a  sturdy  negro  turning  a  crank),  in  a  room 
where  I  worked  a  while  as  "the  devil"  in  Noel's  office  in 
Indianapolis  (1844)  that  would  print  500  impressions  an 
liour,  and  I  have  recently  seen  the  monster  living  things 
that  would  seem  to  do  almost  everything  but  think,  run 
off  its  96,000  of  completed  newspapers  in  the  same  period 
of  time,  folded  and  counted. 

The  removal  to  "Lockland",  alongside  the  "raging 
canal",  seemed  only  a  way  station  to  the  longer  drive  to 
Indiana,  the  longest  walk  of  my  life  in  my  younger  days, 
which  I  vividly  remember  to  this  day,  taken  from  Lock- 
land,  ten  miles  out  from  Cincinnati,  to  Attica,  Indiana, 
a  distance  approximately  of  two  hundred  miles,  when  but 
nine  years  old,  during  the  autumn  of  1839.  With  the  one 
wagon  piled  high  with  the  household  goods  and  mother 
with  two  l)abies,  one  yet  in  arms.  There  was  no  room  in 
the  wagon  for  the  two  boys,  my  brother  Oliver  IVIeeker, 
eleven  years  old,  and  myself,  as  already  stated  but  nine. 
The  horses  walked  a  good  brisk  gait  and  kept  us  quite 
busy  to  keep  up,  but  not  so  busy  as  to  prevent  us  at  times 
from  throwing  stones  at  squirrels  or  to  kill  a  garter  snake 


Vkntures  and  Advkntures  17 

or  gather  tiowers  for  iiiotlier  and  hahv,  oi'  perliaps  watch 
tlie  bees  gathering  houey  or  the  red-headed  woodpeckers 
pecking  the  trees.  Barefooted  and  bareheaded  with  tow 
pants  and  checkered  "linsy  woolsy"  shirt  and  a  strip  of 
cloth  for  "gallnses",  as  suspenders  were  then  called,  we 
did  present  an  appearance  that  might  be  called  primitive. 
Little  did  we  think  or  care  for  appearance,  bent  as  we 
were  npon  having  a  good  time,  and  which  we  did  for  the 
whole  trip.  One  dreary  stretch  of  swamp  that  kept  us 
on  the  corduroy  road  behind  the  jolting  wagon  was  re- 
membered which  Uncle  Usual  Meeker,  who  was  driving  the 
wagon,  called  the  "Big  Swamp",  which  I  afterwards 
learned  was  near  Crawfordsville,  Indiana.  I  discovered 
on  my  recent  trip  with  the  ox-team  that  the  water  of  the 
swamp  is  gone,  the  corduroy  gone,  the  timber  as  well,  and 
instead  great  barns  and  pretentious  homes  have  taken 
their  places  and  dot  the  landscape  as  far  as  the  eye  can 
reach. 

One  habit  we  boys  acquired  on  that  tri])  stuck  to  us 
for  life ;  until  the  brother  was  lost  in  the  disaster  of  the 
steamer  Northerner,  January  5,  1861,  23  years  after  the 
barefoot  trip.  We  followed  behind  the  wagon  part  of 
the  time  and  each  took  the  name  of  the  horse  on  his  side 
of  the  road.  I  was  "Tip"  and  on  the  off  side,  while  the 
brother  was  "Top"  and  on  the  near  side.  "Tip"  and 
"Top",  a  great  big  fat  span  of  grey  horses  that  as  Uncle 
Usual  said  "would  run  away  at  the  drop  of  a  hat"  was 
something  to  be  proud  of  and  each  would  champion  his 
favorite  ahead  of  him.  We  built  castles  in  the  air  at 
times  as  we  trudged  along,  of  raising  chickens,  of  getting 
honey  bees,  such  as  we  saw  at  times  on  the  road;  at  other 
times  it  would  be  horses  and  then  lambs,  if  we  happened 
to  see  a  flock  of  sheep  as  we  passed  by — anything  and 
everything  that  our  imagination  would  conjure  and  which 
by  the  way  made  us  happy  and  contented  with  our  sur- 
roundings and  the  world  at  large.  This  habit  of  my 
brother's  w\nlking  on  the  near  side  and  I  on  the  off  side 
continued,  as  I  have  said,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  and  we 
3— 195S 


18  A  Busy  Life 

were  much  together  in  after  life  in  Indiana,  on  the  plains, 
and  finally  here  in  Washington.  We  soon,  as  boys,  entered 
into  partnership,  raising  a  garden,  chickens,  ducks,  any- 
thing to  be  busy,  all  of  which  our  parents  enjoyed,  and 
continued  our  partnership  till  manhood  and  until  his  death 
parted  us.  It  is  wonderful  how  those  early  recollections 
of  trivial  matters  will  still  be  remembered  until  old  age 
overtakes  us,  while  (juestions  of  greater  importance  en- 
countered later  on  in  life  escape  our  memory  and  are  lost. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

EARLY    DAYS    IN    INDIANA. 

In  the  early  '50 's,  out  four  and  a  half  and  seven  miles, 
respectively,  from  Indianapolis,  Indiana,  there  lived  two 
young  people  with  their  parents,  who  were  old-time  farm- 
ers of  the  old  style,  keeping  no  "hired  man"  nor  buying 
many  "store  goods."  The  girl  could  spin  and  weave, 
make  delicious  butter,  knit  soft,  good  shapen  socks,  and 
cook  as  good  a  meal  as  any  other  country  girl  around 
about,  and  was,  withal,  as  buxom  a  lass  as  had  ever  been 
"born  and  raised  there  (Indiana)  all  her  life." 

These  were  times  when  sugar  sold  for  eighteen  cents 
l)er  pound,  calico  fifteen  cents  per  yard,  salt  three  dollars 
a  barrel,  and  all  other  goods  at  correspondingly  high 
prices;  while  butter  would  bring  but  ten  cents  a  pound, 
eggs  five  cents  a  dozen,  and  wheat  but  two  bits  (twenty- 
five  cents)  a  bushel.  And  so,  when  these  farmers  went 
to  the  market  town  (Indianapolis)  care  was  taken  to 
carry  along  something  to  sell,  either  eggs,  or  butter,  or 
perhaps  a  half  dozen  pairs  of  socks,  or  maybe  a  few  yards 
of  home-made  cloth,  as  well  as  some  grain,  or  hay,  or  a 
bit  of  pork,  or  possibly  a  load  of  wood,  to  make  ends  meet 
at  the  store. 

The  young  man  was  a  little  uncouth  in  appearance, 
round-faced,    rather    stout   in    build — almost    fat — a    little 


Vkntures  AM)  Ai)VKN'rniiEs  10 

boisterous,  always  restless,  and  without  a  very  good  ad- 
dress, yet  with  at  least  one  redeeming  trait  of  eharaeter — 
he  loved  liis  work  and  was  known  to  be  as  iiiduslrious  a 
lad  as  any  in  the  neighborhood. 

These  young  people  wonld  sometimes  meet  at  the 
"Brimstone  meeting-house,"  a  Methodist  church  known 
(far  and  wide)  by  that  name;  so  named  by  the  unregener- 
ate  because  of  the  oi)en  ])reaching  of  endless  torment  to 
follow  non-church  memliers  and  sinners  after  death — a 
literal  lake  of  fire — taught  with  vehemence  and  accom- 
panied by  boisterous  scenes  of  shouting  bj^  those  who  were 
"saved."  Amid  these  scenes  and  these  surroundings  these 
two  young  people  grew  uj)  to  the  age  of  manhood  and 
wonmnhood,  kno\\ing  but  little  of  the  M'orld  outside  of 
their  home  sphere. — and  who  knows  luit  as  happy  as  if 
they  had  seen  the  whole  world  ?  Had  they  not  experi- 
enced the  joys  of  the  sugar  camp  while  "stirring  off" 
the  lively  creejung  maple  sugar  ?  Both  had  l)een  thumped 
upon  the  bare  head  by  the  falling  hickory  nuts  in  windy 
weather;  had  hunted  the  black  walnuts  half  hidden  in 
the  leaves;  had  scraped  the  ground  for  the  elusive  beech 
nuts;  had  even  ventured  to  apple  parings  together,  though 
not  yet  out  of  their  "teens." 

The  lad  hunted  the  'possum  and  the  coon  in  the  White 
River  bottom,  now  the  suburb  of  the  city  of  Indianapolis, 
and  had  cut  even  the  stately  walnut  trees,  now  so  valuable, 
that  the  cunning  coon  might  be  driven  from  his  hiding 
place. 

i'm  going  to  be  a  farmer. 

"I'm  going  to  be  a  farmer  when  I  get  married,"  the 
young  man  quite  abruptly  said  one  day  to  the  lass,  without 
any  previous  conversation  to  lead  up  to  such  an  assertion, 
to  the  confusion  of  his  comjianion,  who  could  not  mistake 
the  thoughts  that  prompted  the  words.  A  few  months 
later  the  lass  said,  "Yes,  I  want  to  be  a  farmer,  too,  but 
I  want  to  be  a  farmer  on  our  own  land,"  and  two  bargains 
wei'c  confirmed  then  and  there  when  the  lad  said,  "We 


20  A  Busy  Life 

will  go  West  and  not  live  on  pap's  farm."  "Nor  in  the 
old  cabin,  nor  any  cabin  unless  it's  our  own,"  came  the 
response,  and  so  the  resolution  was  made  that  they  would 
go  to  Iowa,  get  some  land  and  ' '  grow  up  with  the  country. ' ' 

OFF   FOR   IOWA. 

About  the  first  w^eek  of  October,  1851,  a  covered  w^agon 
drew  up  in  front  of  Thomas  Sumner's  habitation,  then  but 
four  miles  out  from  Indianapolis  on  the  National  road, 
ready  to  be  loaded  for  the  start.  Eliza  Jane,  the  second 
daughter  of  that  noble  man,  the  "lass"  described,  then 
the  wife  of  the  young  man  mentioned,  the  author,  w-as 
ready,  with  cake  and  apple  butter  and  pumpkin  pies, 
jellies  and  the  like,  enough  to  last  the  whole  trip,  and 
plenty  of  substantials  besides.  Not  much  of  a  load  to  be 
sure,  but  it  w^as  all  we  had;  plenty  of  blankets,  a  good 
sized  Dutch  oven,  and  each  an  extra  pair  of  shoes,  cloth 
for  tw^o  new  dresses  for  the  wife,  and  for  an  extra  pair 
of  trousers  for  the  husband. 

Tears  could  be  restrained  no  longer  as  the  loading  pro- 
gressed and  the  stern  realization  faced  the  parents  of  both 
that  the  young  couple  were  about  to  leave  them. 

"Why,  mother,  we  are  only  going  out  to  Iowa,  you 
know%  where  we  can  get  a  home  that  shall  be  our  own ; 
it's  not  so  very  far — only  about  500  miles." 

"Yes,  I  know%  but  suppose  you  get  sick  in  that  unin- 
habited country — who  wdll  care  for  you "? ' ' 

Notwithstanding  this  motherly  solicitude,  the  young 
people  could  not  fail  to  know  that  there  was  a  secret  feel- 
ing of  approval  in  the  good  w^oman's  breast,  and  when, 
after  a  few  miles'  travel,  the  reluctant  final  parting  came, 
could  not  then  know  that  this  loved  parent  would  lay 
down  her  life  a  few  years  later  in  an  heroic  attempt  to 
follow  the  w^anderei-s  to  Oregon,  and  that  her  bones  would 
rest  in  an  unknown  and  unmarked  grave  of  the  Platte 
valley. 

Of  that  October  drive  from  tlio  bome  near  Indianapolis 
to  Eddyville,  Iowa,  in  the  delicious  (shall  I  say  delicious, 


VkNTTRES    and    AnVKNTURES  21 

for  what  other  woi'd  expresses  it?)  atmosphere  of  an 
Indian  summer,  and  in  the  atmosphere  of  hope  and  con- 
tent ;  hope  born  of  aspirations — content  with  our  lot.  born 
of  a  confidence  of  the  future,  what  shall  I  say?  What 
matter  if  we  had  but  a  few  dollars  in  money  and  but  few 
belongings? — we  had  the  wide  world  before  us;  we  had 
pood  health;  and  before  and  above  all  we  had  each  other, 
and  were  supremely  happy  and  rich  in  our  anticipations. 

At  this  time  but  one  railroad  entered  Indianapolis — it 
would  be  called  a  tramway  now — from  Madison  on  the 
Ohio  River,  and  when  we  cut  loose  from  that  embryo  city 
we  left  railroads  behind  us,  except  such  as  were  found  in 
the  wagon  track  where  the  rails  were  laid  crossways  to 
keep  the  wagon  out  of  the  mud.  What  matter  if  the  road 
was  rough?  We  could  go  a  little  slower,  and  then  wouldn't 
we  have  a  better  appetite  for  our  supper  because  of  the 
jolting,  and  wouldn't  W(^  sleep  a  little  sounder  for  it? 
And  so  everything  in  all  the  world  looked  bright,  and 
what  little  mishaps  did  befall  us  were  looked  upon  with 
light  hearts,  because  we  realized  that  they  might  have  been 
worse. 

The  great  jMississippi  River  was  crossed  at  Burlington, 
or  rather,  we  embarked  several  miles  down  the  river,  and 
were  carried  up  to  the  landing  at  Burlington,  and  after 
a  few  days'  further  driving  landed  in  Eddyville,  Iowa, 
destined  to  be  only  a  place  to  winter,  and  a  way  station  on 
our  route  to  Oregon. 

AN    IOWA    WINTER. 

My  first  introduction  to  an  Iowa  winter  was  in  a  sur- 
veyor's camp  on  the  western  borders  of  the  state,  a  little 
north  of  Kanesville  (now  Council  Blutfs),  as  cook  of  the 
party,  which  position  was  speedily  changed  and  that  of 
flagman  assigned  to  me. 

If  there  are  any  settlers  now  left  of  the  Iowa  of  that 
day  (sixty-four  years  ago)  they  will  remember  the  winter 
was  bitter  cold — the  "coldest  within  the  memory  of  the 
oldest  inhabitant."    On  my  trip  back  from  the  surveying 


22  A  Busy  Life 

party  above  mentioned  to  Eddyville,  just  before  Christ- 
mas, I  encountered  one  of  those  eohl  days  long  to  be 
remembered.  A  companion  named  Vance  rested  with  me 
over  night  in  a  cabin,  with  scant  food  for  ourselves  or 
the  mare  we  led.  It  was  thirty-five  miles  to  the  next 
cabin ;  we  must  reach  that  place  or  lay  out  on  the  snow. 
So  a  very  early  start  was  made — -before  daybreak,  while 
the  wind  lay.  The  good  lady  of  the  cabin  baked  some 
biscuit  for  a  noon  lunch,  but  they  were  frozen  solid  in 
our  pockets  before  we  had  been  out  two  hours.  The  wind 
rose  with  the  sun,  and  with  the  sun  two  bright  sundogs, 
one  on  each  side,  and  alongside  of  each,  but  slightly  less 
bright,  another — a  beautiful  sight  to  behold,  but  arising 
from  conditions  intolerable  to  bear.  Vance  came  near 
freezing  to  death,  and  would  had  I  not  succeeded  in  arous- 
ing him  to  anger  and  gotten  him  off  the  mare. 

I  vowed  tlien  and  there  that  I  did  not  like  the  Iowa 
climate,  and  the  Oregon  fever  was  visibly  quickened.  Be- 
sides, if  I  v/ent  to  Oregon  the  government  would  give  us 
320  acres  of  land,  while  in  Iowa  we  should  have  to  pur- 
chase it, — at  a  low  price  to  be  sure,  but  it  must  be  bought 
and  paid  for  on  the  spot.  There  were  no  pre-emption  or 
beneficial  homestead  laws  in  force  then,  and  not  until 
many  years  later.  The  country  w^as  a  wide,  open,  rolling 
prairie — a  beautiful  country  indeed — but  what  about  a 
market?  No  railroads,  no  wagon  roads,  no  cities,  no  meet- 
ing-houses, no  schools — the  prospect  looked  drear.  How 
easy  it  is  for  one  when  his  mind  is  once  bent  against  a 
country  to  conjure  up  all  sorts  of  reasons  to  bolster  his, 
perhaps  hasty,  conclusions ;  and  so  Iowa  was  condemned 
as  unsuited  to  our  life  abiding  place. 

But  what  about  going  to  Oregon  when  springtime  came? 
An  interesting  event  was  pending  that  rendered  a  positive 
decision  impossible  for  the  moment,  and  not  until  the  first 
week  of  April,  1852,  when  our  first-born  baby  boy  was  a 
month  old,  could  we  sav  that  we  Avere  going  to  Oregon 
in  1852. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  23 

CHAPTER  IV. 

OFF  FOR  OREGON. 

1  have  been  asked  hundreds  of  times  how  many  wagons 
were  in  the  train  I  traveled  with,  and  what  train  it  was, 
and  who  was  the  captain? — assuminsf  that,  of  course,  we 
must  have  been  with  some  ti'ain. 

I  ha.ve  invarial)ly  answei-cd,  one  train,  one  wagon,  and 
that  we  had  no  captain.  What  I  meant  by  one  train  is,, 
that  I  looked  upon  the  whole  emig-ration,  strung  out  on 
the  plains  five  hundred  miles,  as  one  train.  For  long  dis- 
tances the  throng  was  so  great  that  the  road  was  literally- 
filled  with  wagons  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  At  Kanes- 
ville  where  the  last  purchases  were  made,  or  the  last  letter 
sent  to  anxious  friends,  the  congestion  became  so  great 
that  the  teams  were  literally  blocked,  and  stood  in  line 
for  hours  before  the.y  could  get  out  of  the  jam.  Then, 
as  to  a  captain,  we  didn  't  think  we  needed  one,  and  so 
when  we  drove  out  of  Eddyville,  there  was  but  one  wagon 
in  our  train,  two  yoke  of  four-year-old  steers,  one  yoke  of 
cows,  and  one  extra  cow.  This  cow  was  the  only  animal 
we  lost  on  the  whole  trip — strayed  in  the  Missouri  River 
l)ottom  liefore  crossing. 

And  now  as  to  the  personnel  of  our  little  party.  William 
Buck,  who  became  my  partner  for  the  trip,  was  a  man 
six  years  my  senior,  had  had  some  experience  on  the  Plains, 
and  knew  about  the  outfit  needed,  but  had  no  knowledge 
in  regard  to  a  team  of  cattle.  He  was  an  impulsive  man. 
and  to  some  extent  excitable;  yet  withal  a  man  of  excellent 
judgment  and  as  honest  as  God  Almighty  makes  men.  No 
lazy  bones  occupied  a  place  in  Buck's  body.  He  was  so 
scrupuously  neat  and  cleanly  that  some  might  say  he  was 
fastidious,  but  such  was  not  the  ease.  His  aptitude  for 
the  camp  work,  and  unfitness  for  handling  the  team,  at 
once,  as  we  might  say  by  natural  selection,  divided  the 
cares  of  the  householri,  sending  the  married  men  to  the 
range  with  the  team  and  the  bachelor  to  the  camp.     The 


24  A  Busy  Life 

little  wife  was  in  ideal  health,  and  almost  as  pavtieular  as 
Buck  (not  quite  though)  while  the  young  husband  would 
be  a  little  more  on  the  sloucky  order,  if  the  reader  will 
pardon  the  use  of  that  word,  more  expressive  than  elegant. 

Buck  selected  the  outfit  to  go  into  the  wagon,  while  I 
fitted  up  the  wagon  and  bought  the  team. 

We  had  butter,  packed  in  the  center  of  the  flour  in 
double  sacks;  eggs  packed  in  corn  meal  or  flour,  to  last  us 
nearly  five  hundred  miles;  fruit  in  abundance,  and  dried 
pumpkins;  a  little  jerked  beef,  not  too  salt,  and  last, 
though  not  least,  a  demijohn  of  brandy  for  "medicinal 
purposes  only,"  as  Buck  said,  with  a  merry  twinkle  of 
the  eye  that  exj^osed  the  subterfuge  which  he  knew  I 
understood  without  any  sign.  The  little  wife  had  pre- 
pared the  home-made  yeast  cake  which  she  knew  so  well 
how  to  make  and  dry,  and  we  had  light  bread  all  the  way, 
baked  in  a  tin  reflector  instead  of  the  heavy  Dutch  ovens 
so  much  in  use  on  the  Plains. 

Albeit  the  butter  to  considerable  extent  melted  and 
mingled  with  the  flour,  yet  we  were  not  much  disconcerted, 
as  the  "short-cake"  that  followed  made  us  almost  glad 
the  mishap  had  occurred.  Besides,  did  we  not  have  plenty 
of  fresh  butter,  from  the  milk  of  our  own  cows,  churned 
every  day  in  the  can,  by  the  jostle  of  the  wagon?  Then 
the  buttermilk!  "What  a  luxury!  Yes,  that's  the  word — 
a  real  luxury.  I  will  never,  so  long  as  I  live,  forget  that 
short-cake  and  corn-bread,  the  puddings  and  pumpkin  pies, 
and  above  all  the  buttermilk.  The  reader  who  smiles  at 
this  may  recall  that  it  is  the  small  things  that  make  up 
the  happiness  of  life. 

But  it  was  more  than  that.  As  we  gradually  crept  out 
on  the  Plains  and  saw  the  sickness  and  suffering  caused 
by  improi3er  food  and  in  some  cases  from  improper  prep- 
aration, it  gi-adually  dawned  on  me  how  blessed  I  was. 
with  such  a  partner  as  Buck  and  such  a  life  partner  as 
the  little  wife.  Some  trains,  it  soon  transpired,  were  with- 
out fruit,  and  most  of  them  depended  upon  saleratus  for 
raising  their  bread.     Mnny  had  only  fat  bacon  for  meat 


Ventukks  and  Adventures  25 

until  the  bulJt'alo  .su])[)lie<l  a  change;  and  no  doubt  much 
of  the  sickness  attributed  to  the  cholera  was  caused  by  an 
ill-suited  diet. 

I  am  willing  to  claim  credit  for  the  team,  every  hoof  of 
which  reached  the  Coast  in  safety.  Four  (four-Y('ai--old) 
steers  and  two  cows  were  sufficient  for  our  light  wagon  and 
light  outfit,  not  a  pound  of  which  but  was  usefiU  (except 
the  brandy)  and  necessary  for  our  comfort.  Not  one  of 
these  steers  had  ever  been  under  the  yoke,  though  plenty 
of  "broke"  oxen  could  be  had,  but  generally  of  that  class 
that  had  been  broken  in  spirit  as  M^ell  as  in  training,  so 
when  we  got  across  the  Des  Moines  River  with  the  cattle 
strung  out  to  the  wagon  and  Buck  on  the  off  side  to  watch, 
while  I,  figuratively  speaking,  took  the  reins  in  hand,  we 
may  have  presented  a  ludicrous  sight,  hut  did  not  have 
time  to  think  wliethei-  we  did  or  not,  and  cared  but  little 
so  the  team  would  go. 

FIRST   DAY   OUT. 

The  first  day's  drive  out  from  Eddyville  was  a  short 
one,  and  so  far  as  I  now  remember  the  only  one  on  the 
entire  trip  where  the  cattle  were  allowed  to  stand  in  the 
yoke  at  noon  while  the  owners  lunched  and  rested.  I  made 
it  a  rule,  no  matter  how  short  the  noontime,  to  unyoke  and 
let  the  cattle  rest  or  eat  while  we  rested  and  ate,  and  on 
the  last  (1906)  trip  rigidly  adhered  to  that  rule. 

An  amusing  scene  was  enacted  when,  at  near  nightfall, 
the  first  camp  was  made.  Buck  excitedly  insisted  we  must 
uot  unyoke  the  cattle.  "Well,  what  shall  we  do?"  I  asked; 
' '  They  can 't  live  in  the  yoke  always ;  we  will  have  to  unyoke 
them  sometimes." 

"Yes,  but  if  j^ou  uuyoke  here  you  will  never  catch  them 
again,"  came  the  response.  One  word  brought  on  another, 
until  the  war  of  words  had  almost  reached  the  stage  of 
a  dispute,  when  a  stranger,  Thomas  McAuley,  who  was 
camped  nearby,  witli  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  I  often  after- 
wards saw  and  will  always  remember,  interfered  and  said 
his  cattle  were  gentle  and  there  were  three  men  of  his 


26  A  Busy  Life 

party  and  that  they  would  help  us  yoke  up  in  the  morn- 
ing. .  I  gratefully  accepted  his  proffered  help,  speedily 
unyoked,  and  ever  after  that  never  a  word  with  the  merest 
semblance  of  contention  passed  between  Buck  and  myself. 

Scanning  McAuley's  outfit  the  next  morning  I  was  quite 
troubled  to  start  out  with  him,  his  teams  being  light, 
principally  cows,  and  thin  in  flesh,  with  wagons  apparently 
light  and  as  frail  as  the  teams.  But  I  soon  found  that  his 
outfit,  like  ours,  carried  no  extra  weight;  that  he  knew 
how  to  care  for  a  team;  and  was,  withal,  an  obliging  neigh- 
bor, as  was  fully  demonstrated  on  many  trying  occasions, 
as  we  traveled  in  company  for  more  than  a  thousand  miles, 
until  his  road  to  California  parted  from  ours  at  the  big 
bend  of  the  Bear  River. 

Of  the  trip  through  Iowa  little  remains  to  be  said  further 
than  that  the  grass  was  thin  and  washy,  the  ]*oads  mudily 
and  slippery,  and  weather  execrable,  although  May  had 
been  ushered  in  long  before  we  reached  the  little  Mormon 
town  of  Kanesville  (now  Council  Bluffs),  a  few  miles  above 
where  we  crossed  the  Missouri  River. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CROSSING    THE    MISSOURI. 

"What  on  earth  is  that?"  exclaimed  Margaret  McAuley, 
as  we  approached  the  ferry  landing  a  few  miles  below 
where  Omaha  now  stands. 

"It  looks  for  all  the  woj-ld  like  a  great  big  white 
flatiron,"  answered  Eliza,  the  sister,  "doesn't  it,  Mrs. 
Meeker?"  But,  leaving  the  women  folks  to  their  similes, 
we  drivers  turned  our  attention  more  to  the  teams  as  we 
encountered  the  roads  "cut  all  to  pieces"  on  account  of 
the  concenti-ated  travel  as  we  neared  the  landing  and  the 
solid  ])halanx  of  wagons  that  fofmed  the  flatiron  of  white 
ground. 

We  here  encountered  a  sight  indeed  long  to  be  remem- 


Ventures  and  Advkxti'kes  27 

bored.  Tlu^  "Hatiroii  of  wliile"  lliat  Kliza  had  soon  proved 
to  1)0  wajijoiis  with  Ihoir  tongues  pointing  to  I  lie  lauding — 
a  center  train  with  other  i)arallel  trains  extending  back 
in  the  rear  and  gradually  covering  a  wider  range  the 
farthei-  back  from  the  I'ivor  one  would  go.  Several  hun- 
dred wagons  were  thus  closely  interlocked  conii)letely  block- 
ing the  approach  to  the  landing  by  now  arrivals,  whether 
in  companies  or  single.  All  around  about  were  camps  of 
all  kinds,  from  those  without  covering  of  any  kind  to  others 
with  comfortable  tents,  nearly  all  seemingly  intent  on 
merrymaking,  while  here  and  there  were  small  groups 
engaged  in  devotional  services.  We  soon  ascertained  tliese 
camps  contained  the  outfits,  in  great  part,  of  the  wagons 
in  line  in  the  great  white  flatiron,  some  of  whom  had  been 
there  for  two  weeks  with  no  apparent  probability  of  secur- 
ing an  early  crossing.  At  the  turbulent  river  front  the 
muddy  waters  of  the  Missouri  had  already  swallowed  up 
three  victims,  one  of  whom  I  saw  go  under  the  drift  of 
a  small  island  as  I  stood  near  his  shrieking  wife  the  first 
day 'we  were  there.  Two  scows  were  engaged  in  crossing 
the  wagons  and  teams.  In  this  case  the  stock  had  ruslied 
to  one  side  of  the  boat,  submerged  the  gunwale,  and  pre- 
cipitated the  "whole  contents  into  the  dangerous  river.  One 
3^oke  of  oxen,  having  reached  the  farther  shore,  deliberately 
entered  the  river  with  a  heavy  yoke  on  and  swam  to  the 
Iowa  side,  and  were  finally  saved  by  the  helping  hands  of 
the  assembled  emigrants. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  was  passed  around,  without 
answer.  Tom  McAuley  was  not  yet  looked  upon  as  a 
leader,  as  was  the  case  later.  The  sister  Margaret,  a  most 
determined  maiden  lady,  the  oldest  of  the  party  and  as 
resolute  and  brave  as  the  bravest,  said  to  build  a  boat. 
But  of  what  should  we  build  it?  While  this  <|uostion  was 
under  consideration  and  a  search  for  material  made,  one 
of  our  party,  who  had  gotten  across  the  rivoi-  in  search 
of  timber,  discovered  a  scow,  almost  completely  buried, 
on  the  sandpit  opposite  the  landing,  "only  just  a  small 
bit  of   railinsr   and    a    corner   of   the   boat   visible."      The 


28  A  Busy  Life 

ri'poii  scciiiud  too  gootl  to  he  true.  The  next  thing  to  do 
was  to  find  the  owner,  wliicli  in  a  search  of  a  day  we  did. 
eleven  miles  down  the  river.  "Yes,  if  you  will  stipulate 
to  deliver  the  boat  safely  to  me  after  crossing  your  five 
wagons  and  teams,  you  can  have  it,"'  said  the  owner, 
and  a  bargain  was  closed  right  then  and  there.  My !  but 
didn't  we  make  the  sand  fly  that  night  from  that  boat? 
By  morning  we  could  begin  to  see  the  end.  Then  busy 
hands  began  to  cut  a  landing  on  the  perpendicular  sandy 
bank  on  the  Iowa  side ;  others  were  preparing  sweeps,  and 
all  was  bustle  and  stir  and  one  might  say  excitement. 

By  this  time  it  had  become  noised  around  that  an- 
other boat  would  be  put  on  to  ferry  people  over,  and  we 
were  besieged  with  niiplieations  from  detained  emigrants. 
Finally,  the  word  coming  to  the  ears  of  the  ferrymen,  they 
M'ere  foolish  enough  to  undertake  to  prevent  us  from  cross- 
ing ourselves.  A  writ  of  replevin  or  some  other  process 
was  issued,  I  never  knew  exactly  what,  directing  the  sheriff 
to  take  possession  of  the  boat  when  landed,  and  which  he 
attempted  to  do.  I  never  before  nor  since  attempted  to 
resist  an  officer  of  the  law,  nor  joined  to  accomplish 
anything  by  force  outside  the  pale  of  the  law,  but  when 
that  sheriff  put  in  an  appearance,  and  we  realized  what 
it  meant,  there  wasn't  a  man  in  our  party  that  did  not 
run  for  his  gun  to  the  nearby  camp,  and  it  is  needless  to 
add  that  we  did  not  need  to  use  them.  As  if  by  magic 
a  hundred  guns  were  in  sight.  The  sheriff  withdrew,  and 
the  crossing  went  peaceably  on  till  all  our  wagons  were 
safely  landed.  But  we  had  another  danger  to  face ;  we 
learned  that  there  would  be  an  attempt  made  to  take  the 
boat  from  us,  not  as  against  us,  but  as  against  the  owner, 
and  but  for  the  adroit  management  of  McAuley  and  my 
brother  Oliver  (who  had  joined  us)  we  would  have  been 
unable  to  fulfill  our  engagements  with  the  ownei". 


Ventures  and  Adventures  29 

("IIAPTHIJ   VI. 

Ol'T   (>\    THE    PLAINS. 

Wlie2i  we  stepped  foot  upon  the  right  bank  of  the  Mis- 
souri River  we  were  outside  the  pale  of  civil  law.  We  were 
within  the  Indian  conntry  where  no  organized  civil  govern- 
ment existed.  Some  people  and  some  writers  have  assumed 
that  each  man  was  "a  law  unto  himself"  and  free  to  do 
his  own  will,  dependent,  of  course,  upon  his  physical  ability 
to  enforce  it. 

Nothing  could  be  further  from  the  facts  than  this  as- 
sumption, as  evil-doers  soon  found  out  to  their  discomfort. 
No  general  organization  for  law  and  order  was  effected, 
but  the  American  instinct  for  fair  play  and  for  a  hearing 
prevailed;  so  that  while  there  was  not  mob  law,  the  law 
of  self-preservation  asserted  itself,  and  the  mandates  of 
the  level-headed  old  men  prevailed ;  "a  high  court  from 
which  there  was  no  appeal,"  but  "a  high  court  in  the  most 
exalted  sense ;  a  senate  composed  of  the  ablest  and  most 
respected  fathers  of  the  emigration,  exercising  both  legis- 
lative and  judicial  power ;  and  its  laws  and  decisions  proved 
equal  to  any  worthy  of  the  high  trust  reposed  in  it,"  so 
tersely  described  by  Applegate  as  to  conditions  when  the 
first  great  train  moved  out  on  the  Plains  in  1843,  that  I 
quote  his  words  as  describing  conditions  in  1852.  There 
was  this  difiference,  however,  in  the  emigration  of  1843 — 
all,  by  agreement,  belonged  to  one  or  the  other  of  the  two 
companies,  the  "cow  column"  or  the  "light  brigade," 
while  with  the  emigrants  of  1852  it  is  safe  to  say  that  more 
than  half  did  not  belong  to  large  companies,  or  one  might 
say  any  organized  company.  But  this  made  no  difference, 
for  when  an  occasion  called  for  action  a  "high  court"  was 
convened,  and  woe-betide  the  man  that  would  undertake 
to  defy  its  mandates  after  its  deliberations  were  made 
public. 

One  incident,  well  up  on  the  Sweetwatei-,  will  illustrate 
the  spirit  of  determination  of  the  sturdy  old  men  (elderly. 


30  A  Busy  Life 

1  should  say,  as  no  young  luen  were  allowed  to  sit  iu  these 
councils)  of  the  Plains,  while  lal)oring  under  stress  of 
grave  personal  cares  and  with  many  personal  bereave- 
ments. A  nnirder  had  been  committed,  and  it  was  clear 
that  the  motive  was  robbery.  The  suspect  had  a  large 
family  and  was  traveling  along  with  the  moving  column. 
Men  had  volunteered  to  search  for  the  missing  man  and 
finally  found  the  proof  pointing  to  the  guilt  of  the  sus- 
pect. A  council  of  twelve  men  was  called  and  deliberated 
until  the  second  day,  meanwhile  holding  the  murderer 
safely  within  their  grij).  What  were  they  to  do?  Here 
was  a  wife  and  four  little  children  depending  upon  this 
man  for  their  lives;  what  would  become  of  his  family  if 
justice  was  meted  out  to  him?  Soon  there  came  an  under- 
current of  what  might  be  termed  public  opinion — that  it 
was  probably  bettei'  to  forego  punishment  than  to  endanger 
the  lives  of  the  family ;  but  the  council  would  not  be 
swerved  from  its  i-esolution,  and  at  sundown  of  the  third 
day  the  criminal  was  hung  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
camp,  including  the  family,  but  not  until  ample  provisions 
had  been  made  to  insure  the  safety  of  the  family  by  pro- 
viding a  driver  to  finish  the  journey.  I  came  so  near 
seeing  this  that  I  did  see  the  ends  of  the  wagon  tongues 
in  the  air  and  the  rope  dangling  therefrom,  but  I  have 
forgotten  the  names  of  the  i)arties,  and  even  if  I  had  not, 
would  be  loath  to  make  them  public. 

From  necessity,  murder  was  punishable  wath  death ;  but 
stealing,  by  a  tacit  understanding,  with  whipping,  which, 
when  inflicted  by  one  of  those  long  ox  lashes  in  the  hands 
of  an  expert,  would  bring  the  blood  from  the  victim's  back 
at  every  stroke.  JMInoi*  offenses,  or  ditferences  generally, 
took  the  form  of  ar])itration,  the  decision  of  which  each 
imrty  would  abide  by,  as  if  emanating  from  a  court  of  law. 

Lawlessness  was  not.  common  on  the  Plains,  no  more  so 
than  in  the  communities  from  which  the  great  body  of  tlie 
(nnigrants  had  been  drawn ;  in  fact,  not  so  much  so,  as 
Itunislnncnt  was  swift  and  certain,  and  that  fact  had  its 
deterrent  effect.  But  the  great  body  of  the  emigrants  were 
a  law-abiding  people  fi-om  law-abiding  communities. 


Ventures  and  Advkntitres  31 

And  now  as  to  our  mode  of  travel.  I  did  not  enter  an 
organized  company,  iieither  could  I  travel  alone.  Four 
wagons,  with  nine  men,  by  tacit  agreement,  traveled  to 
gether  for  a  thousand  miles,  and  separated  only  when  our 
roads  i)arted,  the  one  to  California,  the  other  to  Oregon. 
And  yet  we  were  all  the  while  in  one  great  train,  never 
out  of  sight  or  hearing  of  others.  Tn  fact,  at  times,  the 
road  would  be  so  full  of  wagons  tliat  all  could  not  travel 
in  one  track,  and  this  fact  accounts  for  the  double  road- 
beds seen  in  so  many  i)laces  on  the  trail.  One  of  the  jjarty 
always  went  ahead  to  look  out  for  water,  grass  and  fuel, 
three  requisites  for  a  camping  place.  The  grass  along  the 
beaten  track  was  always  eaten  off  close  by  the  loose  stock, 
of  which  there  were  great  numbers,  and  so  we  had  fre- 
quently to  take  the  cattle  long  distances  from  camp.  Then 
came  the  most  trying  part  of  the  whole  trip — the  all-night 
watch,  Avhich  resulted  in  our  making  the  cattle  our  bed- 
fellows, back  to  back  for  warmth;  for  signal  as  well,  to 
get  up  if  the  ox  did.  It  was  not  long,  though,  till  we  were 
used  to  it,  and  slept  quite  a  bit  except  when  a  storm  struck 
us;  well,  then,  to  say  the  least,  it  was  not  a  pleasure  outing. 
But  weren't  we  glad  when  the  morning  came,  with,  per- 
chance, the  smoke  of  the  campfire  in  sight,  and  maybe,  as 
we  approached,  we  could  catch  the  aroma  of  the  coffee ; 
and  then  such  tender  greetings  and  such  thoughtful  care 
that  would  have  touched  a  heart  of  stone,  and  to  us 
seemed  like  a  paradise.     We  were  supremely  ha])py. 

People,  too,  often  brought  their  own  ills  upon  them- 
selves by  their  indiscreet  action,  especially  in  the  loss  of 
their  teams.  The  trip  had  not  progressed  far  until  there 
came  a  universal  outcry  against  the  heavy  loads  and  un- 
necessary articles,  and  soon  we  began  to  see  abandoned 
property.  First  it  might  be  a  table  or  a  cupboard,  or 
perhaps  a  bedstead  or  a  heavy  cast-iron  cook-stove.  Then 
began  to  be  soon  Ix^lding  by  the  wayside,  feather  beds, 
blankets,  quilts,  pillows — everything  of  the  kind  that 
mortal  man  might  want.  And  so,  very  soon  here  and  there 
an  abandoned  wagon  could  be  seen,  provisions,  stacks  of 


32  A  Busy  Life 

flour  and  bacon  being  tbe  most  abundant — all  left  as  com- 
mon property.  Help  yourself  if  you  will;  no  one  will 
interfere;  and,  in  fact,  in  some  places  a  sign  was  posted 
inviting  all  to  take  what  they  wanted.  Hundreds  of 
wagons  were  left  and  hundreds  of  tons  of  goods.  People 
seemed  to  vie  with  each  other  to  give  away  their  property, 
there  being  no  chance  to  sell,  and  they  disliked  to  destroy. 
Long  after  the  mania  for  getting  rid  of  goods  and  lighten- 
ing the  load,  the  abandonment  of  wagons  continued,  as 
the  teams  became  weaker  and  the  ravages  of  cholera  struck 
us.  It  was  then  that  many  lost  their  heads  and  ruined 
their  teams  by  furious  driving,  by  lack  of  care,  and  by 
abuse.  There  came  a  veritable  stampede — a  strife  for 
possession  of  the  road,  to  see  who  should  get  ahead.  Whole 
trains  (often  with  bad  blood)  would  strive  for  the  mastery 
of  the  road,  one  attempting  to  pass  the  other,  frequently 
with  drivers  on  each  side  the  team  to  urge  the  poor,  suffer- 
ing brutes  forward. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  passed  from  one  to  another  in  our 
little  family  council. 

"Now,  fellers,"  said  McAuley,  "don't  lose  your  heads, 
but  do  just  as  you  have  been  doing;  you  gals,  just  make 
your  bread  as  light  as  ever,  and  we'll  boil  the  water  and 
take  river  water  the  same  as  ever,  even  if  it  is  almost  as 
thick  as  mud." 

We  had  all  along  refused  to  "dig  little  wells  near  the 
banks  of  the  Platte,"  as  many  others  did,  having  soon 
learned  that  the  water  obtained  was  strongly  charged  with 
alkali,  while  the  river  water  was  comparatively  pure,  other 
than  the  fine  impalpable  sediment,  so  fine  as  to  seemingly 
l)e  held  in  solution. 

"Keep  cool,"  he  continued;  "maybe  we'll  have  to  lay 
down,  and  maybe  not.  Anyway,  it's  no  use  frettin'.  What's 
to  be  will  be,  'specially  if  we  but  help  things  along." 

This  homely  yet  Avise  counsel  fell  upon  willing  ears,  as 
most. all  were  already  of  the  same  mind;  and  we  did  "just 
as  we  had  been  doing,"  and  escaped  unharmed. 

I  look  back  on  that  party  of  nine  men  and  three  women 


Vp:NTrRi':s  and  AnvKNTUHKs  33 

(and  a  baljy),  with  four  wji^ous.  witli  feeliiif^s  almost  akin 
to  reverence. 

Thomas  McAuley  became  b\'  natural  selection  the  leader 
of  the  party,  although  no  agreement  of  the  kind  was  ever 
made.  He  was,  next  to  his  maiden  sister,  the  oldest  of  the 
party,  a  most  f(^arless  man,  who  never  lost  his  liead,  what- 
ever the  emergency,  and  1  have  been  in  some  ])retty  tight 
places  with  him.  While  he  was  the  oldest,  I  was  the 
youngest  of  the  men  folks  of  the  party,  and  the  only 
married  man  of  the  lot,  and  if  I  do  have  to  say  it,  the 
strongest  and  ablest  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  work  (pardon 
me,  reader,  when  1  add,  and  willing  according  to  my 
sti-ength,  for  it  is  true),  and  so  we  got  along  well  together 
until  the  parting  of  the  way  came.  This  spirit,  though, 
pervaded  the  whole  camp  both  with  the  men  and  women 
folks  to  the  end.  Thomas  McAuley  still  lives,  at  Ilobai't 
Hills,  California,  or  did  a  few  years  ago  when  I  last  heard 
from  him,  a  respected  citizen.  He  has  long  since  jiassed 
the  eighty-year  mark,  and  has  not  "laid  down"  yet. 

Did  space  but  permit  1  Avould  like  to  tell  more  in  detail 
of  the  members  of  that  little  happy  party  (famil\'  we 
called  ourselves)  camped  near  the  bank  of  the  Platte  when 
the  fury  of  that  great  epidemic — cholera — burst  upon  us, 
but  I  can  only  make  brief  mention.  William  Buck — one 
of  Nature's  noblemen — has  long  ago  "laid  doM^n."  Always 
scrupulously  neat  and  cleanly,  always  ready  to  cater  to 
the  wants  of  his  companions  and  as  honest  as  the  day  is 
long,  he  has  ever  held  a  tendei-  place  in  my  heart.  Tt  was 
Buck  that  selected  our  nice  little  outfit,  complete  in  every 
part,  so  that  we  did  not  throw  a.way  a  pound  of  provisions 
nor  need  to  purchase  any.  The  water  can  was  in  the 
wagon,  of  suificient  capacity  to  supplj^  our  wants  for  a 
day,  and  a  "sup"  for  the  oxen  and  cows  besides.  The 
milk  can  in  the  wagon  always  yielded  its  lump  of  butter 
at  night,  churned  by  the  movement  of  the  wagon  from 
the  surplus  morning's  milk.  The  yeast  cake  so  thought- 
fully provided  by  the  little  wife  ever  brought  forth  sw(>et. 
light  bread  baked  in  that  tin  reflector  before  the  "chip" 

A — 1958 


34  A  Busy  Life 

(l)iiffalo)  fire.  That  reflector  and  those  yeast  cakes  were 
a  great  factor  conducive  to  our  liealth.  Small  things,  to  be 
sure,  but  great  as  to  results.  Instead  of  saleratus  biscuit, 
bacon  and  beans,  we  had  the  light  bread  and  fruit,  with 
fresh  meats  and  rice  pudding,  far  out  on  the  Plains,  until 
our  supply  of  eggs  became  exhausted. 

Of  the  remainder  of  the  party,  brother  Oliver  "laid 
down"  fifty-five  years  ago,  l)ut  his  memory  is  still  green 
in  the  hearts  of  all  who  knew  him.  Margaret  McAuley 
died  a  few  years  after  reaching  California.  Like  her 
brother,  she  was  resolute  and  resourceful,  and  almost  like 
a  mother  to  the  younger  sister  and  the  young  wife  and 
baby.  And  such  a  baby !  If  one  were  to  judge  by  the 
actions  of  all  the  members  of  that  camp,  the  conclusion 
would  be  I'c^ached  thei'e  was  no  other  baby  on  earth.  All 
seemed  rejoiced  to  know  there  was  a  baby  in  camp ;  young 
(only  seven  weeks  old  when  we  started)  but  strong  and 
grew  apace  as  the  higher  altitude  was  reached. 

Eliza,  the  younger  sister,  a  type  of  the  healthy,  handsome 
American  girl,  graceful  and  modest,  became  the  center  of 
attraction  upon  which  a  romance  might  l)e  written,  but 
as  the  good  elderly  lady  still  lives,  the  time  has  not  yet 
come,  and  so  we  must  draM^  the  veil. 

Of  the  two  Davenport  brothers,  Jacob,  the  youngest, 
became  ill  at  Soda  Springs,  was  confined  to  the  wagon  for 
more  than  seven  hundred  miles  down  Snake  River  in  that 
intolerable  dust,  and  finally  died  soon  after  we  arrived  in 
Portland. 

John,  the  elder  l)rother,  always  fretful,  but  willing  to  do 
his  part,  has  passed  out  of  my  knowledge.  Both  came  of 
respected  parents  on  an  adjoining  farm  to  that  of  my 
own  home  near  Indianapolis,  but  I  have  lost  all  trace  of 
them. 

Perhaps  the  general  reader  may  not  take  even  a  pass- 
ing interest  in  this  little  party  (family)  here  described. 
1  can  only  say  that  this  was  typical  of  many  on  the  Trail 
of  '52.  The  McAuleys  or  Buck  and  others  of  our  party 
could  ])('  duplicated  in  larger  or  smaller  pai'ties  all  along 


Vkntitrhs  and  Advkntures  35 

t.liu  line.  Thci'c  were  liundi'cds  ol"  iiohlc;  iiicii  Ir-iidgiiig  up 
the  Platte  at  that  tiiuc?  in  an  army  over  five  hu]ulre(l  miles 
long,  many  of  whom  "laid  down,"  a  saerifice  to  their  duty, 
or  maybe  to  inherent  weakness  of  their  system.  While  it 
is  true  such  an  experience  brings  out  the  worst  features 
of  individual  characters,  yet  it  is  also  true  that  the  shining 
virtues  come  to  tlie  front  likewise;  like  pure  gold,  they  are 
found  where  least  expected. 

Of  the  fortitude  of  the  women  one  cannot  say  too  much. 
Embarrassed  at  the  start  by  the  follies  of  fashion  (and 
long  dresses  which  were  quickly  discarded  and  the  bloomer 
donned),  they  soon  rose  to  the  occasion  and  cast  false 
modesty  aside.  Could  we  but  have  had  the  camera  (of 
course  not  tlien  in  existence)  trained  on  one  of  those  typical 
camps,  what  a  picture  there  would  be.  Elderly  matrons 
dressed  almost  like  the  little  sprite  miss  of  tender  years 
of  today.  The  younger  women  were  rather  shy  of  accept- 
ing the  inevitable,  but  finally  fell  into  the  procession,  and 
we  had  a  community  of  women  wearing  bloomers  without 
invidious  comment,  or,  in  fact,  any  comment  at  all.  Some 
of  them  went  bare-foot,  partly  from  choice  and  in  some 
cases  from  necessity.  The  same  could  be  said  of  the  men, 
as  shoe  leather  began  to  grind  out  from  the  sand  and  dry 
heat.  Of  all  the  fantastic  costumes  it  is  safe  to  say  the  like 
was  never  seen  before.  The  scene  beggars  description. 
Patches  became  visible  upon  the  clothing  of  preachers  as 
well  as  laymen ;  the  situations  brooked  no  respecter  of 
persons.  The  grandmother's  cap  was  soon  displaced  by 
a  handkerchief  or  perhaps  a  bit  of  cloth.  Grandfather's 
liigh  crowned  hat  disappeared  as  if  l)y  magic.  Hatless  and 
bootless  men  became  a  common  sight.  Bonnetless  women 
were  to  be  seen  on  all  sides.  They  wore  what  they  had  left 
or  could  get,  without  question  as  to  the  fitness  of  things. 
Rich  dresses  were  worn  by  some  ladies  because  they  had  no 
others;  the  gentlemen  drew  upon  their  wardrobes  until 
scai'cely  a  fine  unsoiled  suit  was  left. 

The  dust  has  been  spoken  of  as  intolerable.  The  word 
hardly  expresses  the  situation;   in   fact,  the   English  Ian- 


36  A  Busy  Life 

guage  contains  no  words  to  properly  express  it.  Here 
was  a  moving  mass  of  humanity  and  dumb  brutes,  at 
times  mixed  in  inextriea])le  confusion,  a  hundred  feet  wide 
or  more.  Sometimes  two  columns  of  wagons  traveling  on 
parallel  lines  and  near  each  other  would  serve  as  a  barrier 
to  prevent  loose  stock  from  crossing;  but  usually  there 
would  be  a  confused  mass  of  cows,  young  cattle,  horses, 
and  footmen  moving  along  the  outskirts.  Here  and  there 
would  be  the  di'ivers  of  loose  stock,  some  on  foot  and  some 
on  horseback; — a  young  girl,  maybe,  riding  astride,  with 
a  younger  child  behind,  going  here  and  there  after  an 
intractible  cow,  while  the  mother  could  be  seen  in  the  con- 
fusion lending  a  helping  hand.  As  in  a  thronged  city 
street,  no  one  seemed  to  look  to  tlie  right  or  to  the  left, 
or  to  pay  much,  if  any,  attention  to  othei's,  but  bent  alone 
on  accomi3lishing  the  task  in  hand.  Over  all,  in  calm 
weather  at  times,  the  dust  would  settle  so  thick  that  the 
lead  team  of  oxen  could  not  be  seen  from  the  wagon — 
like  a  London  fog,  so  thick  one  might  almost  cut  it.*'  Tlien, 
again,  that  steady  flow  of  wind  up  to  and  through  the 
South  Pass  would  hurl  the  dust  and  sand  in  one's  face 
sometimes  with  force  enough  to  sting  fi'om  the  impact  upon 
the  face  and  hands. 

Then  we  had  storms  that  were  not  of  sand  and  wind 
alone ; — storms  that  onl.y  a  Platte  Valley  in  summer  or  a 
Puget  Sound  winter  might  turn  out ; — storms  that  would 
wet  one  to  the  skin  in  less  time  that  it  takes  to  write  this 
sentence.  One  such  I  remember  being  caught  in  while  out 
on  watch.  The  cattle  traveled  so  fast  it  was  difficult  to 
keep  up  with  them.  I  could  do  nothing  else  than  follow, 
as  it  would  have  been  as  impossible  to  turn  them  as  it 
would  to  change  the  direction  of  the  wind.  1  have  always 
thought  of  this  as  a  cloudburst.  Anyway,  there  was  not 
a  dry  thread  left  on  me  in  an  incredibly  short  time.     My 


*The  author  spent  four  winters  in  London  on  the  world's  liop  market,  and  perhaps 
has  a  more  vivid  recollection  of  what  is  meant  liy  a  London  fog  than  would  he  understood 
by  the  general  reader.  I  have  seen  the  fon  and  smoke  there  so  black  that  one  could  not 
see  his  hand  held  at  arm's  length,  and  it  reminded  me  of  some  scenes  in  the  dust  on  the 
Plains. 


Vi:NTrRi;s  and  An\'i:xTrKKs  87 

hoots  were  as  full  of  water  as  if  I  had  l)eeii  wadiu^'  over 
hoot-top  dee}),  and  tlie  water  ran  through  my  hat  as  thougli 
it  was  a  sieve,  ahnost  l)lindiiio'  me  in  the  fnry  of  wind  and 
water.  Many  tents  wei'e  leveled,  and,  in  fact,  such  occur- 
rences as  fallen  tents  were  not  unconnuon. 

One  of  our  neighboring  trains  sufifered  no  inconsiderable 
loss  by  the  sheets  of  water  on  the  ground,  floating  their 
camp  e(|uipage,  ox  yokes,  and  all  loose  articles  away;  and 
they  only  narrowly  escaped  having  a  wagon  engulfed  in 
the  raging  torrent  that  came  so  unexpectedly  upon  them. 
Such  were  some  of  the  discomforts  on  the  Plains  in  '52. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OUT    ON    THE   PLAINS — BUFP.VLO    STAMPEDE. 

The  buffalo  trails  generally  followed  the  water  courses 
or  paralleled  them,  while  again  they  would  lead  across 
the  country  with  scarcely  any  deviation  from  a  direct 
course.  When  on  the  road  a  herd  would  persistently  fol- 
low their  leader,  whether  in  the  wild  tumult  of  a  stampede 
or  the  more  leisurely  grazing  as  they  traveled. 

However,  for  nearly  a  thousand  miles  a  goodly  supply 
of  fresh  meat  was  obtainable  from  the  adventurous  hunters, 
who  in  spite  of  the  appalling  calamity  that  had  overtaken 
the  moving  colunni  of  the  emigrants  would  venture  out  on 
the  chase,  the  temptation  l)eing  too  great  to  restrain  their 
ardor. 

A  story  is  told,  and  it  is  doubtless  true,  of  a  chase  on 
the  upper  regions  of  the  Missouri,  where  the  leaders,  either 
voluntarily  or  by  pressure  from  the  mass  behind,  leaped 
to  their  death  over  a  perpendicular  bluflf  a  hundred  feet 
high  overlooking  the  river,  followed  blindly  by  the  herd 
until  not  only  hundreds  but  thousands  lay  at  the  foot 
struggling  in  inextricable  confusion,  piling  one  upon  an- 
other till  the  space  between  the  I'iver  and  the  bluff  was 
])ridged  and  the  belated  victims  ]»lunged  headlong  into  the 
river. 


281 25G 


38  A  Busy  Life 

Well  up  the  Platte  but  belo^v  Fovi  Laramie,  we  had  the 
experience  oi'  a  uijjht  stampede  that  struck  terror  to  the 
very  vitals  of  inau  and  beast.  It  so  liai)peued  that  evening 
we  had  brought  our  cattle  into  caiuj),  a  thing  we  did  not 
usually  do.  We  had  driven  the  wagons  into  a  circle  with 
the  tongue  of  one  wagon  chained  to  the  hiud  axle  tree  of  the 
one  in  front,  with  the  cattle  inside  the  circle  and  the  tents 
outside.  I  slept  in  the  wagon  that  night,  which  was  not 
often,  for  usually  I  would  be  out  on  the  range  with  the 
oxen,  and  if  I  slept  at  all,  snugged  up  close  to  Dandy's 
back.  My  partner,  William  Buck,  was  in  the  tent  nearby 
and  sleeping  on  the  ground,  likewise  brother  Oliver. 

We  first  heard  tiie  approaching  storm,  but  almost  in- 
stantly every  animal  in  the  corral  was  on  his  feet.  Just 
then  the  alarm  was  given  and  all  hands  turned  out,  not 
yet  knowing  what  caused  the  general  commotion.  A  roar 
like  an  approaching  storm  could  be  heard  in  the  distance. 
We  can  liken  it  to  the  roar  of  a  heavy  railroad  train  on 
a  still  night  passing  at  no  great  distance.  As  by  instinct 
all  suddenly  seemed  to  know  what  was  approaching,  the 
tents  were  emptied  of  their  inmates,  the  weak  parts  of 
the  corral  guarded,  the  frightened  cattle  looked  after,  and 
ever^^one  in  the  camp  was  on  the  alert  to  watch  what  was 
coming. 

In  the  darkness  of  the  night  we  could  soon  see  the  form 
of  the  foremost  leader  and  then  such  dense  masses  that 
one  could  not  distinguish  one  from  the  other.  How  long 
they  were  passing  we  forgot  to  note ;  it  seemed  like  an 
age.  When  daylight  came  a  few  stragglers  were  yet  to 
be  seen  and  fell  under  the  unerring  aim  of  the  frontier- 
man's  rifle.  Our  neighbors  in  camjj  did  not  escape  loss. 
Some  Avere  detained  for  days  gathering  up  their  scattered 
stock,  while  again  others  were  unable  to  find  them,  and 
lost  their  teams,  or  a  part  of  them,  and  never  did  recover 
them. 

At  times  when  not  on  the  road,  the  buffalo  were  shy, 
difficult  to  approach  and  hard  to  bag,  even  Avith  the  long 
range  rifles  of  the  pioneers. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  39 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

OUT  ON  THE  PLAINS. 

As  soon  as  a  part  of  onr  ontfits  were  landed  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  river  onr  trouble  with  the  Indians  be^an,  not 
in  open  hostilities,  bnt  in  rol)bery  under  the  guise  of  beg- 
gary. The  w^ord  had  been  passed  around  in  our  little 
party  that  not  one  cent's  worth  of  provisions  would  we 
give  up  to  the  Indians, — believing  this  policy  was  our  only 
safeguard  from  spoliation,  and  in  that  we  were  right.  The 
women  folks  had  been  taken  over  the  river  with  the  first 
wagon,  and  sent  off  a  little  way  to  a  convenient  camp,  so 
that  the  first  show  of  arms  came  from  that  side  of  our  little 
community,  when  some  of  the  bolder  Pawnees  attempted 
to  pilfer  around  the  wagons.  But  no  blood  was  shed,  and 
I  may  say  in  passing  there  was  none  shed  by  any  of  our 
party  during  the  entire  trip,  though  there  was  a  show  of 
arms  in  several  instances.  One  case  in  particular  I  remem- 
ber. Soon  after  we  had  left  the  Missouri  River  we  came 
to  a  small  bridge  over  a  washout  across  the  road,  evidently 
constructed  very  recently  by  some  train  just  ahead  of  us. 
The  Indians  had  taken  possession  and  demanded  pay  for 
crossing.  Some  ahead  of  us  had  paid,  while  others  were 
hesitating,  but  with  a  few  there  was  a  determined  resolu- 
tion not  to  pay.  When  our  party  came  up  it  remained  for 
that  fearless  man,  McAuley.  in  quite  short  order  to  clear 
the  way  though  the  Indians  were  there  in  considerable 
numbers.  IMcAuley  said,  "You  fellers  come  right  on,  for 
I'm  going  across  that  bridge  if  I  have  to  run  right  over 
that  Ingen  settin'  there."  And  he  did  almost  run  over 
the  Indian,  who  at  the  last  moment  got  out  of  the  way  of 
his  team,  which  was  followed  in  such  quick  succession  and 
with  such  a  show  of  arms  that  the  Indians  withdrew,  and 
left  the  road  unobstructed. 

In  another  instance,  I  came  very  near  getting  into  seri- 
ous trouble  with  three  Indians  on  horseback.  We  had 
hauled  off  away  from  the  road  to  get  water,  I  think,  and 


40  A  Brs^Y  Life 

became  separated  from  tlie  passing  throng,  and  almost, 
bnt  not  (juite  out  of  sight  of  any  wagons  or  camps.  The 
Indians  came  up  ostensibly  to  beg,  but  really  to  rob,  and 
first  began  to  solicit,  and  afterwards  to  threaten.  1  started 
to  drive  on,  not  thinking  they  would  use  actual  violence, 
as  there  were  other  emigrants  certainly  within  a  half  mile, 
and  thought  they  were  merely  trying  to  frighten  me  into 
giving  up  at  least  a  part  of  my  outfit.  Finally  one  of  the 
Indians  whipped  out  his  knife  and  cut  loose  the  cow  that 
I  was  leading  behind  the  wagon.  I  did  not  have  to  ask 
for  my  gun,  as  my  wife  in  the  wagon,  who  had  seen  the 
act,  believed,  as  1  did,  that  the  time  had  come  to  fight,  and 
handed  me  my  trusty  rifle  out  under  the  cover,  and  before 
the  savages  had  time  to  do  anything  further  they  saw  the 
gun.  They  were  near  enough  to  make  it  certain  that  one 
shot  M^oud  take  deadly  effect,  but  instead  of  shooting  one, 
T  trained  the  gun  in  the  direction  so  I  might  (puckly  choose 
between  the  three,  and  in  an  instant  each  Indian  was 
under  cover  of  his  horse,  and  speeding  away  in  great  haste. 
The  old  story  that  "almost  anyone  will  fight  when  cor- 
nered" was  exemplified  in  this  incident,  but  I  did  not 
want  any  more  such  experiences  and  consequently  there- 
after became  more  careful. 

We  did  not,  however,  have  nnich  trouble  with  tlie  Indians 
in  1852.  The  facts  are,  the  great  numbers  of  emigrants, 
coupled  with  the  superiority  of  their  arms,  placed  them 
on  comparatively  safe  grounds.  And  it  must  be  remem- 
bered, also,  that  this  was  befoi'e  the  treaty-making  period, 
which  has  so  often  been  followed  by  bloodshed  and  war. 

But  to  return  to  the  river  bank.  AVe  crossed  on  the  17th 
and  18th  of  May,  and  drove  out  a  short  way  on  the  19th, 
but  not  far  enough  to  be  out  of  hearing  of  a  shrill  steam- 
boat whistle  that  resounded  over  the  prairie,  annonncing 
the  arrival  of  a  steamer. 

I  nevei"  knew  1he  size  ol*  1li;i1  stcamei",  or  the  name,  but 
only  kno\\'  thai  a  dozen  or  moi-e  wagons  could  be  crossed 
at  once,  and  1li;it  ;i  dozen  or  more  trips  could  be  made 
during  the  day,  and  as  many  more  at  night,  iind  that  we 


VkNTIUKS    AM)    Al)\i;N"rfl!KS  41 

were  overtaken  by  this  tlii'Oiig'  of  a  thousand  wagons 
thrown  upon  the  road,  that  i^ave  us  some  Irouhh-  and  unich 
diseonifort. 

And  now  that  we  were  fairly  on  the  way  llie  whole 
atinosi)here,  so  to  si)eak,  seemed  ehangcd.  Instead  of  the 
discordant  violin  and  more  discordant  voices,  with  the 
fantastic  night  open-air  dances  with  mother  earth  as  a 
floor,  there  soon  prevailed  a  more  sober  mein,  even  among 
the  young  people,  as  they  began  to  encounter  the  fatigue 
of  a  day's  drive  and  the  cares  of  a  night  watch.  With 
so  many,  the  watchword  was  to  push  ahead  and  make  as 
big  a  daj^'s  drive  as  possible ;  hence  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  nearly  the  whole  of  the  thousand  wagons  that 
crossed  the  river  after  we  did  soon  passed  us. 

"Now,  fellers,  jist  let  'em  rush  on,  and  keep  cool,  we'll 
overcatch  them  afore  long,"  said  ]\IcAuley.  And  we  did, 
and  passed  many  a  broken-down  team,  the  result  of  that 
first  few  days  of  rush.  It  was  this  class  that  unloaded 
such  piles  of  provisions,  noted  elsewhere,  in  the  first  two 
hundred  mile  stretch,  and  that  fell  such  easy  prey  to  the 
ravages  of  the  epidemic  of  cholera  that  struck  the  moving 
column  where  the  throng  from  the  south  side  of  the  Platte 
began  crossing.  As  I  recollect  this,  it  must  have  been 
near  where  the  city  of  Kearney  now  stands,  which  is  about 
two  hundred  miles  west  of  tlie  Missouri  River.  We  had 
been  in  the  buffalo  country  several  days,  and  some  of  our 
young  men  had  had  the  keen  edge  of  the  hunting  zeal 
worn  off  by  a  day's  ride  in  the  heat.  A  number  of  them 
were  sick  from  the  effects  of  overheating  and  indiscreet 
drinking  of  impure  water.  Such  an  experience  came 
vividly  home  to  me  in  the  case  of  my  brother  Oliver,  who 
had  outfitted  with  our  Iloosier  friends  near  Indianapolis, 
but  had  crossed  the  Missouri  River  in  company  with  us. 
Heing  of  an  adventurous  sjurit,  he  could  not  restrain  his 
ardor,  and  gave  chase  to  the  buffaloes,  and  fell  sick  almost 
unto  death.  This  occurred  just  at  the  time  when  we  had 
encountered  the  cholera  ])anic,  and  of  course  it  must  be 
the  cholera   that  had   seiz(Ml   him   with   such  an   iron  grip. 


42  A  Busy  Life 

argued  some  of  his  companions.  His  old-time  comrades 
and  neighbors,  all  but  two,  and  they  could  not  delay.  I 
said,  "It's  certain  death  to  take  him  along  in  that  con- 
dition," which  they  admitted  was  true.  "Divide  the  outfit, 
then."  The  Davenport  boys  said  they  would  not  leave 
my  brother,  and  so  their  portion  of  the  outfit  was  put  out 
also,  which  gave  the  three  a  wagon  and  team.  Turning 
to  Buck,  I  said,  "I  can't  ask  you  to  stay  with  me."  The 
answer  came  back  quick  as  a  flash,  "I  am  going  to  stay 
with  you  without  asking,"  and  he  did,  too,  though  my 
brother  was  almost  a  total  stranger.  We  nursed  the  sick 
man  for  four  days  amidst  scenes  of  excitement  and  death 
I  hope  never  to  witness  again,  with  the  result  that  on  the 
fifth  day  we  were  able  to  go  on  and  take  the  convalescent 
with  us  and  thus  saved  his  life.  It  was  at  this  point  the 
sixteen  hundred  wagons  passed  us  as  noted  elsewhere  in 
the  four  daj^s'  detention,  and  loose  stock  so  numerous,  we 
made  no  attempt  to  count  them. 

Of  course,  this  incident  is  of  no  particular  importance, 
except  to  illustrate  what  life  meant  in  those  strenuous 
days.  The  experience  of  that  camp  was  the  experience. 
I  may  say,  of  hundreds  of  others;  of  friends  parting;  of 
desertion ;  of  nol)le  sacrifice ;  of  the  revelation  of  the  best 
and  worst  of  the  inner  man.  Like  the  shifting  clouds  of 
a  brightening  summer  day,  the  trains  seemed  to  dissolve 
and  disappear,  while  no  one,  apparently,  knew  what  had 
become  of  their  component  parts,  or  whither  they  had 
gone. 

There  did  seem  instances  that  would  convert  the  most 
skeptical  to  the  Presbyterian  doctrine  of  total  depravity, 
so  brutal  and  selfish  were  the  actions  of  some  men ;  brutal 
to  men  and  women  alike;  to  dumb  brutes,  and  in  fact  to 
themselves.  And,  yet,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  record  that  there 
were  numerous  instances  of  noble  self-sacrifice,  of  helpful- 
ness, of  unselfishness,  to  the  point  of  imperiling  their  own 
lives.  It  became  a  common  saying  to  know  one's  neigh- 
bors, they  must  be  seen  on  the  Plains. 

The  army  of  loose   stock   that   accompanied   this   huge 


Ventttres  and  Adviontuijes  43 

caravan,  a  column,  we  may  almost  say,  of  five  hundred 
miles  long  without  break,  added  greatly  to  the  discomfort 
of  all.  Of  course,  the  number  of  cattle  and  horses  will 
never  be  known,  but  their  number  was  legion  compared 
to  those  that  labored  under  the  .yoke,  or  in  the  harness. 
A  conservative  estimate  would  be  not  less  than  six  animals 
to  the  wagon,  and  surely  there  were  three  loose  animals 
to  each  one  in  the  teams.  By  this  it  would  appear  that 
as  sixteen  hundred  wagons  passed  while  we  tarried  four 
days,  nearly  ten  thousand  beasts  of  burden  and  thirty 
thousand  loose  stock  accompanied  them.  As  to  the  num- 
ber of  persons,  certainly  there  were  five  to  the  wagon, 
perhaps  more,  but  calling  it  five,  eight  thousand  people, 
men,  women  and  children,  passed  on  during  those  four 
days — many  to  their  graves  not  afai-  off. 

We  know  by  the  inscribed  dates  found  on  Independence 
Rock  and  elsewhere  that  there  were  wagons  full  three  hun- 
dred miles  ahead  of  us.  The  throng  had  continued  to 
pass  the  river  more  than  a  month  after  we  had  crossed, 
so  that  it  does  not  require  a  stretch  of  the  imagination  to 
say  the  column  was  five  hundred  miles  long,  and  like 
Sherman's  march  through  Georgia,  fifty  thousand  strong. 

Of  the  casualties  in  that  mighty  army  I  scarcely  dare 
guess.  It  is  certain  that  history  gives  no  record  of  such 
great  numbers  migrating  so  long  a  distance  as  that  of  the 
Pioneers  of  the  Plains,  where,  as  we  have  seen,  the  dead 
lay  in  rows  of  fifties  and  groups  of  seventies.  Shall  we 
say  ten  per  cent  fell  by  the  wayside?  Many  will  exclaim 
that  estimate  is  too  low.  Ten  per  cent  would  give  us  five 
thousand  sacrifices  of  lives  laid  down  even  in  one  year  to 
aid  in  the  peopling  of  the  Pacific  Coast  states.  The  roll 
call  was  never  made,  and  we  know  not  how  many  there 
were.  The  list  of  mortalities  is  unkno'WTi,  and  so  we  are 
lost  in  conjecture,  and  noAv  avc  only  know  that  the  unknown 
and  unmarked  graves  have  gone  into  oblivion. 

Volumes  could  be  written  of  life  on  the  Plains  and  yet 
leave  the  story  not  half  told.  In  some  matter  before  me 
I  read,  "found  a  family,  consisting  of  husband,  wife  and 


44  A  Busy  Life 

four  small  childicii,  whose  caltlc  we  supposi'd  had  iiivcn 
out  and  died.  They  were  here  all  alone,  and  no  wa^on 
or  cattle  in  sight"' — had  been  thrown  out  hy  the  owner 
of  a  wagon  and  left  on  the  I'oad  to  die.  In  a  nearby  page 
I  read.  "Here  we  met  Mr.  Lot  Whitcom,  direct  from 
Oregon — .  Told  me  a  great  deal  about  Oregon.  He  has 
provisions,  but  none  to  sell,  but  gives  to  all  he  finds  in 
want,  and  who  are  unable  to  l)uy. "  These  stories  of  the 
good  Samaritan,  and  the  fiendish  actions  of  others  could 
be  multiplied  indefinitely,  but  I  (|UOte  only  extracts  from 
these  two,  written  on  the  si)ot.  that  well  illustrate  the 
whole. 

Mrs.  Cecelia  Emily  JMelMillen  Adams,  late  of  Hillsboro. 
Oregon,  crossed  the  Plains  in  1852,  and  kept  a  painstak- 
ing diary,  and  noted  the  graves  passed,  and  counted 
them.  Her  diary  is  published  in  full  by  the  Oregon 
Pioneer  Association,  1904.  1  note  the  following:  "June 
fourteenth.  Passed  seven  new  made  gi'aves.  June  15th. 
Sick  headache,  not  able  to  sit  up.  June  16th.  Passed  11 
new  graves.  June  17th.  Passed  six  new  graves.  June 
18th.  We  have  passed  twenty-one  new  made  graves  today. 
June  19th.  Passed  thirteen  graves  today.  June  20th. 
Passed  ten  graves.  June  21st.  No  report.  Jinie  22nd. 
Passed  seven  graves.  If  we  should  go  by  all  the  camping 
grounds,  we  should  see  five  times  as  imun-  grav(>s  as  we 
do." 

This  report  of  seventy-five  dead  in  106  miles,  and  that 
"if  we  should  go  by  all  the  camping  grounds  we  shonld 
see  five  times  as  many  graves  as  we  do,"  coupled  with  the 
fact  that  a  parallel  column  from  which  we  luive  no  report 
v/as  traveling  up  the  Platte  on  the  south  side  of  tlu^  river, 
and  that  the  outbreak  of  the  cholei-a  had  taken  ])la('e  origi- 
nally in  this  colunni  coming  from  the  southeast,  fully  con- 
firms the  estimate  of  5,000  deaths  on  th<^  Plains  in  1852. 
It  is  in  fact  rather  under  than  over  the  actual  mnnbei' 
who  laid  down  Iheir  IIncs  thai  year.  I  have  mislaid  the 
authoi'ily.  but  at  the  tinie  I  I'ead  it,  belie^■e(l  the  account 
to   be   true,   of   a    scout    that    passed   over  the   ground   late 


Vp:ntitrew  and  Advknti'ues  45 

that  yoar  (1852)  from  the  Loop  Fork  of  tlic  Platte  to  the 
Laramie,  a  distance  approximatiiio-  400  miU's,  that  by  actual 
coniit  ill  great  part  and  conservative  estimate  of  the  re- 
mainder, there  were  six  fresh  graves  to  the  miU'  for  the 
whole  distance — this,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  on  the  one 
side  of  the  river  in  a  stretch  where  for  half  the  distance 
of  a  parallel  column  traveling  on  the  opposite  bank,  where 
like  conditions  prevailed. 

A  few  more  instances  must  suffice  to  comi)lete  this  cha])- 
ter  of  horrors. 

L.  B.  Rowland,  now  of  Eugene,  Oregon,  recently  told 
me  the  experience  of  his  train  of  twenty-three  persons, 
between  the  two  crossings  of  the  Snake  River,  of  which 
we  have  just  written.  Of  the  twenty-three  that  crossed, 
eleven  died  before  they  reached  the  lower  crossing. 

Mrs.  M.  E.  Jones,  now  of  North  Yakima,  states  that 
forty  people  of  their  train  died  in  one  day  and  two  nights, 
before  reacliing  the  crossing  of  the  Platte.  Martin  Cook, 
of  Newberg,  Oregon,  is  my  authority  for  the  following: 
A  family  of  seven  persons,  the  father  known  as  "Dad 
Friels, "  from  Hartford,  Warren  County,  Iowa,  all  died 
of  cholera  and  were  buried  in  one  grave.  He  could  not 
tell  me  the  locality  nor  the  exact  date,  but  it  would  be 
useless  to  search  for  the  graves,  as  all  have  long  ago  been 
leveled  by  the  passing  hoofs  of  the  buffalo  or  domestic 
stock,  or  met  the  fate  of  hundreds  of  shallow  graves,  having 
been  desecrated  by  hungry  wolves. 

A  pathetic  thought  came  ui)permost  in  the  minds  of  the 
emigrants  as  the  fact  dawned  upon  them  that  all  the  graves 
were  fresh  made,  and  that  those  of  previous  years  had 
di.sajipeared — either  leveled  by  the  storms  of  wind  or  rain; 
by  the  hoofs  of  the  passing  throng  of  stock;  or  possibly 
by  ravages  of  the  hungry  wolf.  Many  believed  the  Indians 
had  robbed  the  graves  for  the  clothing  on  the  bodies. 
Whatever  the  cause,  the  fact  was  realized  that  the  graves 
of  previous  years  were  all,  or  nearly  all  gone,  and  that 
the  same  fate  awaited  the  last  resting  place  of  those  loved 
ones  laid  awav  in  such  great  numbers. 


46  A  Busy  Life 

One  of  the  incidents  that  made  a  profonnd  impression 
upon  the  minds  of  all ;  the  meeting  of  eleven  wagons  return- 
ing and  not  a  man  left  in  the  entire  train; — all  had  died, 
and  had  been  huried  on  the  way,  and  the  women  were 
returning  alone  from  a  point  well  up  on  the  Platte  beloAv 
Fort  Laramie.  The  difficulties  of  a  return  trip  were  multi- 
plied on  account  of  the  passing  throng  moving  westward. 
How  they  succeeded,  or  what  became  of  them  I  never 
knew,  but  we  did  know  a  terrible  task  lay  before  them. 

As  the  column  passed  up  the  Platte,  there  came  some 
relief  for  awhile  from  the  dust  and  a  visible  thinning  out 
of  the  throng;  some  had  pushed  on  and  gotten  out  of  the 
way  of  the  congested  district,  while  others  had  lagged  be- 
hind; and  then  it  was  patent  that  the  missing  dead  left 
not  only  a  void  in  the  hearts  of  their  comrades,  but  also 
a  visible  space  ui)on  the  road,  while  their  absence  cast  a 
gloom  over  many  an  aching  heart. 

As  w'e  gradually  ascended  the  Sweetwater,  the  nights 
became  cooler,  and  finally,  the  summit  reached,  life  became 
more  tolerable  and  suffering  less  acute.  The  summit  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  through  the  South  Pass  presents  a 
wide,  open  undulating  country  that  extends  for  a  long 
distance  at  a  very  high  altitude — probably  6,000  feet  above 
sea  level,  until  Bear  River  is  reached,  a  distance  of  over 
1.50  miles.  This  is  a  region  of  scant  herbage  and  almost 
destitute  of  water,  except  at  river  crossings,  for  on  this 
stretch  of  the  Trail,  the  way  leads  across  the  water  courses, 
and  not  with  them. 

The  most  attractive  natural  phenomena  encountered  on 
the  whole  ti'ip  are  the  soda  springs  near  the  Bear  River, 
and  in  fact  right  in  the  bed  of  the  river.  One  of  these, 
the  Steain-lwat  spring,  was  spouting  at  regular  intervals 
as  we  passed.  These  have,  however,  ceased  to  overflow  as 
in  1852,  as  I  learned  on  my  recent  trip. 

When  the  Snake  River  was  reached  and  in  fact  before, 
the  heat  again  became  oppressive,  the  dust  stifling,  and 
thirst  at  times  almost  maddening.  In  some  places  we  could 
see  the  water  of  the  Snake,  but  could  not  reach  it  as  the 


Ventures  and  Adventures  47 

river  ran  in  tlu;  inaccessible  depths  of  the  canyon.  Sick- 
ness again  became  prevalent,  and  another  outbreak  of 
cholera  claimed  many  victims. 

There  were  but  few  ferries  and  none  in  many  places 
where  crossings  were  to  be  made,  and  wdiere  here  and 
there  a  feriy  was  found  the  charges  were  high — or  per- 
haps the  word  should  be,  exorbitant — and  out  of  reach  of 
a  large  majority  of  the  emigrants.  In  my  own  case,  all  my 
funds  had  been  absorbed  in  procuring  my  outfit  at  Eddy- 
ville,  Iowa,  not  dreaming  there  would  be  use  for  money 
''on  the  Plains"  where  there  were  neither  supplies  nor 
people.  We  soon  found  out  our  mistake,  however,  and 
sought  to  mend  matters  when  opportunity  offered.  The 
crossing  of  the  Snake  River,  though  late  in  the  trip,  gave 
the  opportunity. 

About  thirty  miles  below  Salmon  Falls  the  dilemma  con- 
fronted us  to  either  cross  the  river  or  starve  our  teams  on 
the  trip  down  the  river  on  the  south  bank. 

Some  emigrants  had  calked  three  wagon-beds  and  lashed 
them  together,  and  were  crossing,  but  would  not  help  others 
across  for  less  than  three  to  five  dollars  a  wagon,  the  party 
swimming  their  own  stock.  If  others  could  cross  in  wagon- 
beds,  why  could  I  not  do  likewise  ?  and  without  much  ado 
all  the  old  clothing  that  could  possibly  be  spared  was 
marshaled,  tar  buckets  ransacked,  old  chisels  and  broken 
knives  hunted  up,  and  a  veritable  boat  repairing  and  calk- 
ing campaign  inaugurated,  and  shortly  the  wagon-box  rode 
placidly,  even  of  not  gracefully  on  the  turbid  waters  of 
the  formidable  river.  It  had  been  my  fortune  to  be  the 
strongest  physically  of  any  of  our  little  party  of  four 
men,  though  I  would  cheerfully  accept  a  second  place 
mentally. 

^ly  boyhood  pranks  of  playing  with  logs  or  old  leaky 
skiffs  in  the  waters  of  White  River  now  served  me  well, 
for  I  could  row  a  boat  even  if  I  had  never  taken  lessons 
as  an  athlete.  My  first  venture  across  the  Snake  River 
was  with  the  wagon  gear  run  over  the  wagon  box.  the 
whole  being  gradually  worked  out  into  deep  water.     The 


48  A  ]>nsY  Life 

load  was  so  lieavy  thai  a  \>'ry  small  uiaryui  was  left  to 
prevent  the  water  from  breaking  over  the  sides,  and 
some  actually  did,  as  light  ripples  on  the  surface  struck 
the  "Mary  Jane/'  as  we  had  christened  (without  wine) 
the  "craft"  as  she  was  launched.  However,  I  got  over 
safely,  but  after  that  took  lighter  loads  and  really  enjoyed 
the  novelty  of  the  work  and  the  change  from  the  intolerable 
dust  to  the  atmosphere  of  the  water. 

Some  were  so  infatuated  with  the  idea  of  floating  on 
the  water  as  to  be  easily  persuaded  by  an  unprincipled 
trader  at  the  lower  crossing  to  dispose  of  their  teams  for 
a  song,  and  embark  in  their  wagon  beds  for  a  voyage  down 
the  river.  Tt  is  needless  to  say  that  these  persons  (of 
whom  there  were  a  goodly  number)  lost  everything  tliey 
had  and  some,  their  lives,  the  survivors,  after  incredil)le 
hardships,  reaching  the  road  again  to  become  objects  of 
charity  while  separated  entirely  from  friends.  I  knew 
one  survivor,  who  yet  lives  in  our  state,  wlio  was  out 
seven  days  without  food  other  than  a  scant  supply  of 
berries  and  vegetable  growth,  and  "a  few  crickets,  but 
not  many,"  as  it  was  too  laborious  to  catch  them. 

We  had  no  trouble  to  cross  the  cattle,  although  the  river 
was  wide.  Dandy  would  do  almost  anything  I  asked  of 
him,  so,  leading  him  to  the  water's  edge,  with  a  little  coax- 
ing I  got  him  into  swimming  water  and  guided  him  across 
with  the  wagon  bed,  while  the  others  all  followed,  having 
been  driven  into  the  deep  water  following  the  leader.  Tt 
seems  almost  incredible  how  passively  obedient  cattle  will 
become  after  long  ti-aining  on  such  a  trip,  in  crossing 
streams. 

We  had  not  finished  crossing  whcri  tem])ting  offers  came 
from  others  to  cross  them,  but  all  our  party  said  "No,  we 
must  travel."  The  rule  had  been  adopted  to  travel  some 
every  day  possil)le.  "Travel,  travel,  travel,"  was  the 
watchword,  and  nothing  could  divert  us  fi-om  tliat  resolu- 
tion, and  so  on  the  tliird  day  we  wei-c  i-cady  to  ])ull  out 
from  the  nxi'v  witli  llic  callh'  rcsled  from  (he  cufoi'ced 
detention. 


VeNTI^RES    and    AnVKNTUHES  40 

J)Ut  what  al)OUt  the  lower  crossing;^  Those  who  liad 
crossed  over  the  liver  must  somehow  get  back.  It  was 
less  than  150  miles  to  wliere  we  were  again  to  cross  to 
the  sonth  side  (h't'l  l)ank)  of  the  river.  T  could  walk 
that  in  three  thiys,  while  it  would  take  our  teams  ten. 
Could  I  go  on  ahead,  ])rocure  a  wagon  box  and  start  a 
ferry  of  my  own?  The  tiiought  prompted  an  affirmative 
answer  at  once;  so  with  a  little  food  and  a  small  blanket 
the  trip  to  the  lower  crossing  was  made.  It  may  be  ludi- 
crous, but  is  true,  that  the  most  I  remember  about  that 
trip  is  the  jackrabbits — such  swarms  of  them  I  had  never 
seen  before  as  1  traveled  tlown  the  Koise  Valley,  and  never 
expect  to  see  again. 

The  trip  was  made  in  safety,  but  conditions  were  dif- 
ferent. At  the  lower  crossing,  as  I  have  already  said,  some 
were  disposing  of  their  teams  and  starting  to  float  down 
the  river ;  some  were  fording,  a  perilous  undertaking,  but 
most  of  them  succeeded  who  tried,  and  besides  a  trader 
whose  name  T  have  forgotten  had  an  established  ferry  near 
the  old  fort  (l^oise).  I  soon  obtained  a  wagon-bed,  and 
was  at  work  during  all  the  daylight  hours  (no  eight-hour- 
a-day  there)  crossing  people  till  the  teams  came  up,  (and 
for  several  days  after),  and  left  the  river  with  $110  in 
my  pocket,  all  of  which  was  gone  before  I  arrived  in  Port- 
land, save  $2.75. 

I  did  not  look  upon  that  work  then  other  than  as  a  part 
of  the  trip,  to  do  the  best  we  could.  None  of  us  thought 
we  were  doing  a  heroic  act  in  crossing  the  plains  and 
meeting  emergencies  as  they  arose.  In  fact,  we  did  not 
think  at  all  of  that  phase  of  the  ([uestion.  Many  have, 
however,  in  later  life  looked  upon  their  achievement  witli 
pardonable  pride,  and  some  in  a  vain-glorious  mood  of 
mind. 

A  very  pleasant  incident  recently  occurred  in  reviving 
memories  of  this  episode  of  my  life,  while  visiting  my  old 
time  friend  Edward  J.  All(>n,*  mentioned  elsewhere  in  this 
work.     It  was  my  good  fortune  to  be  able  to  spend  several 

'Recently  died  at  the  age  of  SO. 


50  A  Busy  Life 

d;n  ,  with  that  grand  "Old  Timer"  at  his  residence  in 
Pittsburg,  Pa.  Wc  had  not  met  for  fifty  years.  The 
reader  may  readily  believe  there  had  been  great  changes 
with  both  of  us  as  well  as  in  the  world  at  large  in  that 
half  century  of  our  lives.  My  friend  had  crossed  the  plains 
the  same  year  I  did,  and  although  a  single  man  and  young 
at  that,  had  kept  a  diary  all  the  way.  Poring  over  this 
venerable  manuscript  one  day  while  I  was  with  him,  Mr. 
Allen  ran  across  this  sentence,  "The  Meeker  brothers  sold 
out  their  interest  in  the  ferry  today  for  $185.00,  and  left 
for  Portland. ' '  Both  had  forgotten  the  partnership  though 
each  remembered  their  experience  of  the  ferrying  in  wagon- 
boxes. 

From  the  lower  crossing  of  the  Snake  River,  at  Old 
Port  Boise  to  The  Dalles  is  api3roximately  350  miles.  It 
became  a  serious  question  with  many  whether  there  would 
be  enough  provisions  left  to  keep  starvation  from  the 
door,  or  whether  the  teams  could  muster  strength  to  take 
the  wagons  in.  Many  wagons  were  left  by  the  wayside. 
Everything  possible  shared  the  same  fate;  provisions  and 
provisions  only  were  i-eligiously  cared  for — in  fact,  starva- 
tion stared  many  in  the  face.  Added  to  the  weakened  con- 
dition of  both  man  and  beast  small  wonder  if  some  thought- 
less persons  would  take  to  the  river  in  their  wagon-beds, 
many  to  their  death,  and  the  remaining  to  greater  hard- 
ships. 

I  can  not  give  an  adecjuate  description  of  the  dust,  whicli 
seemed  to  get  deeper  and  more  impalpable^  every  day.  I 
might  liken  the  wading  in  the  dust,  to  Avading  in  water  as 
to  resistance.  Often  times  the  dust  would  lie  in  the  road 
full  six  inches  deep,  and  so  fine  that  one  wading  through 
it  would  scarcely  leave  a  track.  And  such  clouds,  when 
distui'bed — no  words  can  describe  it. 

The  appearance  of  the  })eople  is  described  in  the  chapter 
following. 


\''i:\Trin-]>-:  A,\i)  Ai)\i;n'I'i'kks  51 

CHAPTER   IX. 

FLOATING  DOWN   THE  RIVER. 

*0n  a  September  day  of  1852  an  assemblage  of  persons 
could  be  seen  encamped  on  the  ])anks  of  the  great  Columbia^ 
at  The  Dalles,  now  a  city  of  no  small  pretensions,  but  then 
only  a  name  for  the  peculiar  configuration  of  country 
adjacent  to  and  including  the  waters  of  the  great  river. 

One  would  soon  discover  this  assemblage  was  constantly 
changing.  Every  few  hours  stragglers  came  in  from  off 
the  dusty  road,  begrimed  with  tlie  sweat  of  the  brow  com- 
mingled with  particles  of  dust  driven  through  the  air, 
sometimes  by  a  gentle  breeze  and  then  again  by  a  violent 
gale  sweeping  up  the  river  through  the  mountain  gap  of 
the  Cascade  Range.  A  motley  crowd  these  people  were, 
almost  cosmopolitan  in  nationality,  yet  all  vestige  of  race 
peculiarities  or  race  jn-ejudicc  ground  away  in  the  mill 
of  adversity  and  trials  common  to  all  alike  in  common 
danger.  And  yet,  the  dress  and  appearance  of  this  as- 
semblage were  as  varied  as  the  human  countenance  and 
as  unique  as  the  great  mountain  scenery  before  them. 
Some  were  clad  in  scanty  attire  as  soiled  with  the  dust  as 
their  brows;  others,  while  with  better  pretentions,  lacked 
some  portions  of  dress  required  in  civilized  life.  Here  a 
matronly  dame  with  clean  apparel  would  be  without  shoes, 
or  there,  perhaps,  the  husband  without  the  hat  or  per- 
haps both  shoes  and  hat  absent;  there  the  youngsters  of 
all  ages,  making  no  pretensions  to  genteel  clothing  other 
than  to  cover  their  nakedness.  An  expert's  ingenuity 
would  be  taxed  to  the  utmost  to  discover  either  the  texture 
or  original  color  of  the  clothing  of  either  juvenile  or  adult, 
so  prevailing  was  the  patch  work  and  so  inground  the 
particles  of  dust  and  sand  from  otf  the  plains. 

Some  of  these  people  were  buoyant  and  hopeful  in  the 
anticipation  of  meeting  friends  whom  they  knew  were 
awaiting  them  at  their  journey's  end,  while  others  were 

*A  chapter  from  Pioneer  Reminiscences,  by  the  author,  pubHshed  190.5. 


52  A  Busy  Life 

(lovvncast  and  desiKjiidcnt  as  tlicii'  tlioiig:hts  went  back  to 
their  old  homes  left  behiud,  and  the  struggle  now  so  near 
ended,  and  forward  to  the  (to  them)  unknown  land  ahead. 
Some  had  laid  friends  and  relatives  tenderly  away  in  the 
shifting  sands,  who  had  fallen  by  the  wayside,  with  the 
certain  knowledge  that  with  many  the  spot  selected  by 
them  would  not  be  the  last  resting  place  for  the  bones  of 
the  loved  ones.  The  hunger  of  the  wolf  had  been  ai)peased 
by  the  abundance  of  food  from  the  fallen  cattle  that  lined 
the  trail  for  a  thousand  miles  or  more,  or  from  the  weak- 
ened beasts  of  the  emigrants  that  constantly  submitted  to 
capture  by  the  relentless  native  aninuils. 

The  story  of  the  tidp  across  the  plains  in  1852  is  both 
interesting  and  pathetic,  but  T  have  i)lanned  to  ^^^'ite  of 
life  after  the  journey  rather  than  much  about  the  journey 
itself;  of  the  trials  that  beset  the  people  after  their  five 
months'  struggle  on  the  tented  field  of  two  thousand  miles 
of  marching  were  ended,  where,  like  on  the  very  battlefield, 
the  dead  lay  in  rows  of  fifties  or  more ;  where  the  trail 
became  so  iinml  with  fallen  animals,  one  could  scarcely 
be  out  of  sight  oi*  smell  of  carrion ;  where  the  sick  had 
no  respite  from  suffering,  nor  the  well  from  fatigue,  l^ut 
this  oft  told  story  is  a  subject  of  itself,  treated  bi'iefly  to 
the  end  we  may  have  space  to  tell  what  happened  when 
the  journey  was  ended. 

The  constant  gathering  on  tlie  bank  of  tiie  Columbia  and 
constant  departures  of  the  immigrants  did  not  materially 
ciiange  the  numbers  encamped,  nor  the  genera!  appearance. 
The  great  trip  had  moulded  this  army  of  homeseekers  into 
one  homogeneous  nuiss,  a  common  brotherhood,  that  left 
a  lasting  impression  upon  Hie  participants,  and,  although 
few  are  left  now,  not  one  hut  will  greet  an  old  comrade  as 
a  brother  indeed,  and  in  fad.  with  hearty  and  (>ft<'ntimes 
tearful  con gialulat ions. 

We  camix'd  l)ut  two  days  on  Ihe  hank  of  tlic  river.  When 
I  say  we,  h'1  i1  be  understood  Ihat  I  mean  myself,  my 
young  wii'e.  and  the  little  baby  l)oy.  Avho  was  but  seven 
weeks  ohl   when   tiie  starl    was  niach'   from    near    l^](l(l\'ville. 


Venthres  and  Ai)\knti'kes  53 

Iowa.  Doth  were  sick,  the  mother  from  gradual  exhaustion 
thiriug  the  trip  incident  to  motherhood,  and  the  littk^  one 
in  sympatliy,  doubtless  drawn  from  tlie  mother's  breast. 

Did  you  ever  think  of  the  wonderful  mystery  of  the 
inner  action  of  the  mind,  how  some  imi)ressions  once  made 
seem  to  remain,  while  others  gi-adually  fade  away,  like 
the  twilight  of  a  summer  sunset,  until  finally  lost?  And 
then  how  seemingly  trivial  incidents  will  be  fastened  upon 
one's  memory  while  others  of  more  importance  we  would 
recall  if  we  could,  but  which  have  faded  forever  from  our 
grasp?  I  can  well  believe  all  readers  have  had  this  expe- 
rience, and  so  will  be  prepared  to  receive  with  leniency 
the  confession  of  an  elderly  gentleman,  (I  will  not  say 
old),  when  he  says  that  most  of  the  incidents  are  forgotten 
and  few  remembered.  I  do  not  remember  the  embarking 
on  the  great  scow  for  the  float  down  the  river  to  the  Cas- 
cades, but  vividly  remember,  as  though  it  were  but  yester- 
day, incidents  of  the  voyage.  We  all  felt  (I  now  mean 
the  immigrants  who  took  passage)  that  now  our  journey 
was  ended.  The  cattle  had  been  unyoked  for  the  last  time. 
The  wagons  had  been  rolled  to  the  last  bivouac ;  the  em])ers 
of  the  last  camp  fire  had  died  out;  the  last  word  of  gossij) 
had  been  spoken,  and  now,  we  were  entering  a  new  field 
with  new  present  experience,  and  with  new  expectancy  for 
the  morrow. 

The  scow  or  lighter  upon  which  we  took  passage  was 
decked  over,  but  without  railing,  a  simple,  smooth  sur- 
face upon  which  to  pile  our  belongings,  which,  in  the 
majority  of  cases  made  but  a  veiy  small  showing.  T  think 
there  must  have  been  a  dozen  families,  or  more,  of  sixty 
or  more  persons,  principally  women  and  children,  as  the 
young  men  (and  some  old  ones,  too)  were  struggling  on 
the  mountain  trail  to  get  the  teams  through  to  the  west 
side.  The  whole  deck  surface  of  the  scow  was  covered  witli 
the  remnants  of  the  immigrants'  outfits,  which  in  lui'ii 
wci-e  covci'ed  by  the  owners,  either  sitting  or  reclining  upon 
their  possessions,  leaving  but  scant  room  to  change  posi- 
tion or  move  about  in  any  way. 


54  A  Busy  Life 

Did  you  ever,  reader,  have  the  experience  when  some 
sorrow  overtook  yon,  or  when  some  disappointment  had 
been  experienced,  or  when  deferred  liopcs  had  not  been 
realized,  or  sometimes  even  withoiit  these  and  from  some 
unknown,  subtle  cause,  feel  that  depression  of  spirits  that 
for  lack  of  a  better  name  we  call  "the  blues"?  When 
the  world  ahead  looked  dark;  when  hope  seemed  extin- 
guished and  the  future  looked  like  a  blank?  Why  do  I 
ask  this  question?  I  know  you  all  to  a  grc:!er  or  less 
degree  have  had  just  this  experience.  Can  you  wonder 
that  after  our  craft  had  been  turned  loose  upon  the  waters 
of  the  great  river,  and  begun  floating  lazily  down  with 
the  current,  that  such  a  feeling  as  that  descril)ed  would 
seize  us  as  with  an  iron  grip  ?  AVe  were  like  an  army  that 
had  burned  the  bridges  behind  them  as  they  marched,  and 
with  scant  knowledge  of  what  lay  in  the  track  before  them. 
Here  we  were,  more  than  two  thousand  miles  from  home, 
separated  by  a  trackless,  uninhal)ited  waste  of  country, 
impossible  for  us  to  retrace  our  steps.  Go  ahead  we  must, 
no  matter  what  we  were  to  encounter.  Then,  too,  the 
system  had  been  strung  up  for  months,  to  duties  that  could 
not  be  avoided  or  delayed,  until  many  were  on  the  verge 
of  collapse.  Some  were  sick  and  all  reduced  in  flesh  from 
the  urgent  call  for  camp  duty,  and  lack  of  variety  of  food. 
Such  were  the  feelings  and  condition  of  the  motley  crowd 
of  sixty  persons  as  we  slowly  neared  that  wonderful  crevice 
through  which  the  great  river  flows  while  passing  the 
Cascade  mountain  range. 

For  myself,  I  can  truly  say,  that  the  trip  had  not  drawn 
on  my  vitality  as  I  saw  with  so  many.  True,  I  had  been 
worked  down  in  flesh,  having  lost  nearly  twenty  pounds 
on  the  trip,  but  what  weight  I  had  left  was  the  bone  and 
sinew  of  my  system,  that  served  me  so  well  on  tliis  trip 
and  has  been  my  comfort  in  other  walks  of  life  at  a  later 
period.  And  so,  if  asked,  did  you  experiemte  liardships 
on  the  trip  across  the  ])lains,  1  could  not  answer  yes  with- 
out a  mental  reservation  that  it  might  litive  been  a  great 
deal  worse.     I  say   the  same  as  to  after  experience,  for 


Ventures  and  Adventures  55 

these  subsequent  sixty  years  or  more  of  pioneer  life,  having 
been  blessed  with  a  good  constitution,  and  being  now  able 
to  say  that  in  the  fifty-eight  years  of  our  married  life,  the 
wife  has  never  seen  me  a  day  sick  in  bed.  But  tliis  is  a 
digression  and  so  we  must  turn  our  attention  to  the  trip 
on  the  scow,  "floating  down  the  river." 

In  our  company,  a  party  of  three,  a  young  married 
couple  and  an  unmarried  sister,  lounged  on  their  belong- 
ings, listlessly  watching  the  ripples  on  the  water,  as  did 
also  others  of  the  party.  But  little  conversation  was  pass- 
ing. Each  seemed  to  be  communing  with  himself  or  her- 
self, but  it  was  easy  to  see  what  were  the  thoughts  occupy- 
ing the  minds  of  all.  The  young  husband,  it  was  plain 
to  be  seen,  would  soon  complete  that  greater  journey  to 
the  unknown  beyond,  a  condition  that  weighed  so  heavily 
upon  the  ladies  of  the  party,  that  they  could  ill  conceal 
their  solicitude  and  sorrow.  Finally,  to  cheer  up  the  sick 
husband  and  brother,  the  ladies  began  in  sweet,  subdued 
voices  to  sing  the  old  familiar  song  of  Home,  Sweet  Home, 
whereupon  others  of  the  party  joined  in  the  chorus  with 
increased  volume  of  sound.  As  the  echo  died  away,  at  the 
moment  of  gliding  under  the  shadow  of  the  high  mountain, 
the  second  verse  was  begun,  but  was  never  finished.  If 
an  electric  shock  had  startled  every  individual  of  the  party, 
there  could  have  been  no  more  simultaneous  effect  than 
when  the  second  line  of  the  second  verse  was  reached,  when 
instead  of  song,  sobs  and  outcries  of  grief  poured  forth 
from  all  lips.  It  seemed  as  if  there  was  a  tumult  of 
despair  mingled  with  prayer  pouring  forth  without  re- 
straint. The  rugged  boatmen  rested  upon  their  oars  in 
aw^e,  and  gave  away  in  sympathy  with  the  scene  before 
them,  until  it  could  be  truly  said  no  dry  eyes  were  left 
nor  aching  heart  but  was  relieved.  Like  the  downpour 
of  a  summer  shower  that  suddenly  clears  the  atmosphere 
to  welcome  the  bright  shining  sun  that  follows,  so  this 
sudden  outburst  of  grief  cleared  away  the  despondency  to 
be  replaced  by  an  exalted  exhilarating  feeling  of  buoyancy 
and  hopefulness.     The  tears  were  not  dried  till  mirth  took 


56  A  Busy  Life 

])OS.session — a  real  hysterical  manifestation  of  the  whole 
l)arty,  that  ended  all  depression  for  the  remainder  of  the 
trip. 

Bnt  onr  party  was  not  alone  in  these  trials.  It  seems 
to  me  like  the  dream  of  seeing  some  innuigrants  floating 
on  a  submerged  raft  while  on  this  trip.  Perhaps,  it  is  a 
memory  of  a  memory,  or  of  a  long  lost  story,  the  substance 
remembered,  but  the  source  forgotten. 

Recentl}^  a  story  was  told  me  by  one  of  the  actors  in 
the  drama,  that  came  near  a  tragic  ending.  Robert  Parker, 
who  still  lives  at  Sumner,  one  of  the  party,  has  told  me 
of  their  experience.  John  AVhitacre,  afterwards  Governor 
of  Oregon,  was  the  head  of  the  party  of  nine  that  con- 
structed a  raft  at  The  Dalles  out  of  dry  poles  hauled  from 
the  adjacent  country.  Their  stock  was  then  started  out 
over  the  trail,  tlieir  two  wagons  put  upon  the  raft  with 
their  provisions,  bedding,  women,  and  children  in  the 
Avagons,  and  the  start  Avas  made  to  float  down  the  river 
to  the  Cascades.  They  had  gotten  but  a  few  miles  until 
experience  warned  them.  The  waves  swept  over  the  raft 
so  heavily  that  it  was  lilce  a  submerged  foundation  lipon 
which  their  wagons  stood.  A  landing  a  few  miles  out 
fi-om  The  Dalles  averted  a  total  wreck,  and  afforded  oppor- 
tunity to  strengthen  the  buoyancy  of  their  raft  by  extra 
timber  packed  upon  their  backs  for  long  distances.  And 
iiow  should  they  know  when  they  would  reach  the  falls? 
Will  they  be  able  to  discover  the  falls  and  then  have  time 
to  make  a  landing?  Their  fears  finally  got  the  better  of 
them ;  a  line  was  run  ashore  and  instead  of  making  a 
landing,  they  found  themselves  hard  aground  out  of  reach 
of  land,  except  by  wading  a  long  distance,  and  yet  many 
miles  above  the  falls  (Cascades).  Finally,  a  scow  was 
procured,  in  which  they  all  reached  the  head  of  the  Cas- 
cades in  safety.  The  old  pioneer  spoke  kindly  of  this  whole 
l);irty,  one  might  sa\'  iiFFectionately.  One,  ;i  waif  ])ick(Hl 
up  oji  the  ])lains,  a  tendei'  girl  of  fifteen,  fatherless  and 
motherless,  and  sick — a  wanderei-  withont  relatives  or  ac- 
quaintances— all    nndei-  the   sands  of  the   ])lains — recalled 


Ventures  and  Adventures  57 

tlio  trials  of  llic  trip  vividly.  But,  he  liad  c^ieerful  news 
of  her  in  after  life,  though  impossible  at  the  moment  to 
recall  her  name.  Such  were  some  of  the  experiences  of 
the  finish  of  the  long:,  wcntrisome  trip  of  those  who  floated 
down  the  river  on  tlatboat  and  raft. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    ARRIVAE. 

About  nine  o'clock  at  night,  with  a  bright  moon  shining, 
on  October  1st,  1852,  1  carried  my  wife  in  my  arms  up  the 
steep  bank  of  the  Willamette  River,  and  three  blocks 
away  in  the  town  of  Portland  to  a  colored  man's  lodging 
house. 

"Why,  sub,  I  didn't  think  yuse  could  do  that,  yuse 
don't  look  it,"  said  my  colored  friend,  as  \  deposited  my 
charge  in  the  nice,  clean  bed  in  a  cozy  little  room. 

From  April  until  October,  we  had  been  on  the  move  in 
the  tented  field,  with  never  a  roof  over  our  heads  other 
than  the  wagon  cover  or  tent,  and  for  the  last  three  months, 
no  softer  bed  than  either  the  ground  or  bottom  of  the 
wagon  bed.  We  had  found  a  little  steamer  to  carry  us 
from  the  Cascades  to  Portland,  with  most  of  the  company 
that  had  floated  down  the  river  from  The  Dalles,  in  the 
great  scow.  At  the  landing  we  separated,  and  knew  each 
other  but  slightly  afterwards.  The  great  country,  Oregon, 
(then  including  Puget  Sound)  was  large  enough  to  swal- 
low up  a  thousand  such  innnigrations  and  yet  individuals 
be  lost  to  each  other,  but  a  sorrier  mess  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  imagine  than  confronted  us  upon  arrival.  Some 
rain  had  fallen,  and  more  soon  followed.  With  the  stumps 
and  logs,  nmd  and  inieven  places,  it  was  no  easy  matter 
to  find  a  resting  place  for  the  tented  city  so  continuously 
enlarging.  People  seemed  to  be  dazed ;  did  not  know  what 
to  do;  insufficient  shelter  to  house  all;  work  for  all  im- 
possible;   the    country    looked    a   veritable    great    field    of 


58  A  Busy  Life 

forest  and  mountain.  Disconragcinent  and  despair  seized 
upon  some,  while  others  began  to  enlarge  the  circle  of 
observation.  A  few  had  friends  and  acquaintances,  which 
fact  began  soon  to  relieve  the  situation  by  the  removals 
that  followed  the  reunions,  while  suffering,  both  mental 
and  physical,  followed  the  arrival  in  the  winter  storm  that 
ensued,  yet  soon  the  atmosphere  of  discontent  disappeared, 
and  general  cheerfulness  prevailed.  A  few  laid  down  in 
their  beds  not  to  arise  again;  a  few  required  time  to  re- 
cuperate their  strength,  but  with  the  majority,  a  short 
time  found  them  as  active  and  hearty  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  For  myself,  I  can  truly  say,  T  do  not  remember 
the  experience  as  a  personal  hardship.  I  had  been  born 
of  healthy  parents.  I  know  of  my  father  working  eighteen 
hours  a  day  for  three  years  in  the  Carlisle  mill  at  Indian- 
apolis, Indiana,  for  75  cents  a  day,  and  as  an  experienced 
miller  at  that.  If  his  iron  will  or  physical  perfection  or 
something  had  enabled  him  to  endure  this  ordeal  and 
retain  his  strength,  why  could  not  I,  thirty  years  younger, 
hew  my  way?  I  did  not  feel  fatigued.  True,  I  had  been 
"worked  down"  in  flesh,  but  more  from  lack  of  suitable 
food  than  from  excessive  exertion.  Any  way,  I  resolved 
to  try. 

My  brother,  Oliver,  who  had  crossed  the  plains  with 
me — a  noble  man  and  one  destined,  had  he  lived,  to  have 
made  his  mark — came  ahead  by  the  trail.  He  had  spied 
out  the  land  a  little  Avith  unsatisfactory  results,  met  me 
and  pointed  the  way  to  our  colored  friend's  abode.  We 
divided  our  purse  of  $3.75,  I  retaining  two  dollars  and 
he  taking  the  remainder,  and  with  earliest  dawn  of  the 
2nd  found  the  trail  leading  down  the  river,  searching  for 
our  mutual  benefit  for  something  to  do. 

Bid  you,  reader,  ever  have  the  experience  of  a  pre- 
monition that  led  you  on  to  success?  Some  say  this  is 
simply  cliance ;  others  say  that  it  is  a  species  of  super- 
stition, but  whatever  it  is,  probably  most  of  us,  some 
time  in  oui-  lives  have  had  some  sort  of  trials  to  set  us  to 
thinking. 


Ventures  and  Adventttres  5!) 

As  we  passed  up  llic  W'ilhiiiiette,  a  few  miles  below  Port- 
land, on  the  evening'  ol'  out  arrival,  a  bark  lay  seeiuingly 
right  in  our  path  as  we  steamed  by.  Standing  upon  the 
lower  deck  of  our  little  steamer,  this  vessel  looked  to  our 
inexperienced  eyes  as  a  veritable  monster,  with  masts  reach- 
ing to  the  sky,  and  hull  towering  high  above  our  heads. 
Probably  not  one  of  that  whole  party  of  frontiersmen 
had  ever  before  seen  a  deep  sea  vessel.  Hence,  small 
wonder,  the  novelty  of  this  great  monster,  as  we  all  thought 
of  the  vessel,  should  excite  our  admiration  and  we  might 
almost  say,  amazement.  That  was  what  we  came  so  far 
for,  to  where  ships  might  go  down  to  the  sea  and  return 
laden  with  the  riches  of  the  earth.  Th(^  word  passed  that 
she  was  bound  for  Portland  with  a  cargo  of  merchandise 
and  to  take  a  return  cargo  of  lumber.  There,  as  we  passed, 
flashed  through  my  mind,  will  be  my  opportunity  for  work 
tomorrow,  on  that  vessel. 

Sure  enough,  when  the  morrow  came,  the  staunch  bark 
Mary  Melville  lay  quietly  in  front  of  the  mill,  and  so,  not 
losing  any  time  in  early  morning,  my  inquiry  was  made 
'*do  you  want  any  men  on  board  this  ship?"  A  gruff 
looking  fellow  eyed  me  all  over  as  much  as  to  say,  ' '  not 
you,"  but  answered,  "yes,  go  below  and  get  your  break- 
fast." I  fairly  stammered  out,  I  must  go  and  see  my  wife 
first,  and  let  her  know  where  I  am,  whereupon  came  back 
a  growl  "of  course,  that  will  be  the  last  of  you;  that's  the 
way  with  these  new  comers,  always  hunting  for  work  and 
never  wanting  it"  (this  aside  to  a  companion,  but  in  my 
hearing).  I  swallowed  my  indignation  with  the  assurance 
that  I  would  be  back  in  five  minutes  and  so  w^ent  post  haste 
to  the  little  sufferer  to  impart  the  good  news. 

Put  yourself  in  my  place,  you  land  lubber,  who  never 
came  under  the  domination  of  a  brutal  mate  of  a  sailing 
vessel  fifty  years  ago.  My  ears  fairly  tingled  with  hot 
anger  at  the  harsh  orders,  but  I  stuck  to  the  work,  smother- 
ing my  rage  at  being  berated  while  doing  my  very  liest  to 
please  and  to  expedite  the  work.  The  fact  gradually 
dawned  on  me  that  the  man  was  not  angry,  but  had  fallen 


60  A  BrsY  Life 

in  the  vray  o!'  talkinj.';  a.s  thoti^li  he  was,  and  that  the  sailors 
paid  slight  heed  to  what  he  said.  Before  night,  however, 
the  fellow  seemed  to  let  up  on  me,  while  inereasing  his 
tirade  on  the  lieads  of  their  regular  men.  The  second  and 
third  day  wore  oflP  with  l)listered  hauds,  hut  with  never  a 
word  ahout  wages  or  pay. 

"Say,  boss,  I'se  got  to  pa\'  my  rent,  and  wese  always 
gets  our  psiV  in  advance.  I  doesn't  like  to  a,sk  yon,  Init 
can't  you  get  the  old  boss  to  put  up  something  on  your 
work?"  I  could  plainly  see  that  it  was  a  notice  to  pay 
or  move.  He  was  giving  it  to  me  in  thiuly  veiled  words. 
What  should  T  do  •  Suppose  the  old  skipper  should  take 
umbrage,  and  discliarge  me  for  asking  for  -wages  before 
the  end  of  the  week?  But  when  I  told  him  what  I  wanted 
the  money  for,  the  old  man's  eyes  moistened,  ])ut  without 
a  word,  he  gave  uie  more  money  than  I  had  asked  for, 
and  that  night  the  steward  handed  me  a  bottle  of  wine 
for  the  "missus,"  which  1  knew  instinctively  came  from 
the  old  captain. 

The  baby's  Sunday  visit  to  the  ship;  the  Sunday  dinner 
in  the  cabin ;  the  presents  of  delicacies  that  followed,  even 
from  the  gruff  mate,  made  me  feel  that  under  all  this 
roughness,  a  tender  spot  of  humanity  lay,  and  that  one 
must  not  judge  by  outward  appearances  too  much — that 
even  way  out  here,  three  thousand  miles  from  home,  the 
same  sort  of  people  lived  as  those  I  hatl  left  behind  me. 

"St.  Helens,  October  7th,  1852. 
"Dear  Brothei-:     ( 'ouie  as  soon  as  you  can.    Have  rented 
a  house,  sixty  boanh-rs;  this  is  going  to  be  the  place.    Shall 
1  send  you  money?  O.  P.  ]M." 

The  mate  importuned  me  to  stay  uutil  t!ie  cargo  was 
on  board,  which  T  did  uutil  the  last  stick  of  lum])ei'  was 
stowed,  the  last  pig  in  the  pen,  and  the  shij)  swung  ofT 
bound  on  her  outward  voyage.  I  felt  as  thougli  I  had  an 
interest  in  her,  but,  remembering  the  forty  dollai's  in  the 
aggregate  I  had  received,  with  most  of  it  to  .jingle  in  my 
pockets,  1  certainly'  could  claim  no  financial  interest,  Imt 


VkNTI'RKS    and    Al)\KNTruES  61 

fi-oni  that  (lay  on  I  never  saw  or  lieai'd  the  name  ot"  the 
bark  JMary  Mdville  willioiit  prickinti'  my  ears  (fiu-uratively, 
of  course)  to  hear  moi-e  ahont  hei"  and  the  ohl  captain  and 
his  gruff  mate. 

Sure  enough,  i  found  St.  Ileh'us  to  be  the  place.  Here 
was  to  be  the  terminus  of  the  steamship  line  from  San 
Francisco.  "Wasn't  the  company  building  this  wharf?'' 
They  wouldn't  set  sixty  men  to  work  on  the  dock  without 
they  meant  business.  "Ships  can't  get  up  that  creek" 
(meaning  the  Willamette),  ''the  big  city  is  going  to  be 
here."  This  was  the  talk  that  greeted  my  ears,  after  we 
had  carried  the  wife,  (this  time  in  a  chair)  to  our  hotel. 
Yes,  our  hotel,  and  had  deposited  her  and  the  baby  in  the 
best  room  the  house  afforded. 

It  was  here  I  made  acquaintance  with  Columbia  Lan- 
caster, afterwards  elected  as  the  first  delegate  to  Con- 
gress from  Wasiiington.  F  have  always  felt  that  the  pub- 
lished history  of  those  days  has  not  done  the  old  man 
justice,  and  has  been  governed  in  part,  at  least,  by  fac- 
tional bias.  Lancaster  believed  that  what  was  worth  doing 
at  all  was  worth  doing  well,  and  he  lived  it.  He  used  to 
come  across  the  Columbia  with  his  small  boat,  rowed  by 
his  own  hand,  laden  with  vegetables  grown  by  himself  on  his 
farm  opposite  St.  Helens,  in  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Lewis 
River.  I  soon  came  to  know  what  Lancaster  said  of  his 
produce  was  true  to  the  letter;  that  if  he  told  me  he  had 
good  potatoes,  he  had,  and  that  they  were  the  same  in 
the  middle  or  bottom  of  the  sack  as  at  the  top.  And  so 
with  all  his  i)roduce.  We  at  once  became  his  heaviest 
customer,  and  learned  to  trust  him  implicitjy.  I  con- 
sidered him  a  typical  pioneer,  antl  his  name  never  would 
have  been  used  so  contemptuously  had  it  not  been  that  he 
became  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  men  w4io  made  politics  a 
trade  for  personal  profit.  Lancaster  upset  their  well  laid 
plans,  carried  oft'  the  honors  of  tiie  democratic  nomination, 
and  was  elected  as  our  first  delegate  in  Congress  from  the 
new  Territory  of  Washington. 

One    Jaimai'v    moi-ning    of    1853,    the    sixtv    men.    (oui" 


62  A  Busy  Life 

boarders)  did  not  go  to  work  dock  building  as  usual. 
Orders  had  come  to  suspend  Avork.  No])ody  knew  why, 
or  for  how  long.  We  soon  learned  the  why,  as  the  steam- 
ship company  had  given  up  the  fight  against  Portland, 
and  would  thenceforward  run  their  steamers  to  that  port. 
For  how  long,  was  speedily  determined,  for  the  dock  was 
not  finished  and  was  allowed  to  fall  into  decay  and  dis- 
appear by  the  hand  of  time. 

Our  boarders  scattered,  and  our  occupation  was  gone, 
and  our  accumulation  in  great  part  rendered  worthless  to 
us  by  the  change. 

Meantime,  snow  had  fallen  to  a  great  depth ;  the  price 
of  forage  for  cattle  rose  by  leaps  and  bounds,  and  we 
found  that  we  must  part  with  half  of  our  stock  to  save  the 
remainder.  It  might  be  necessary  to  feed  for  a  month, 
or  for  three  months,  but  we  could  not  tell,  and  so  the  last 
cow  was  given  up  that  we  might  keep  one  yoke  of  oxen, 
so  necessary  for  the  work  on  a  new  place.  Then  the  hunt 
for  a  claim  began  again.  One  day's  struggle  against  the 
current  of  Lewis  River,  and  a  night  standing  in  a  snow 
and  sleet  storm  around  a  camp  fire  of  green  wood,  cooled 
our  ardor  a  little,  and  two  hours  sufficed  to  take  us  back 
home  next  morning. 

But  claims  we  nnist  have.  That  was  what  we  had  come 
to  Oregon  for;  we  were  going  to  be  farmers.  Wife  and 
I  had  made  that  bargain  before  we  closed  the  other  more 
important  contract.  We  were,  however,  both  of  one  mind 
as  to  both  contracts.  Early  in  January  of  1853  the  snow 
began  disappearing  rapidly,  and  the  search  became  more 
earnest,  until  finally,  about  the  20th  of  January,  I  drove 
my  first  stake  for  a  claim,  to  include  the  site  where  the 
town,  or  city,  of  Kalama  now  stands,  and  here  ])uilt  our 
first  cabin. 

That  cabin  I  can  see  in  my  mind  as  vividly  as  I  could 
the  first  day  after  it  was  finished.  It  was  the  first  home 
1  ever  owned.  What  a  thrill  of  joy  that  name  brought  to 
us.  Home.  It  was  our  home,  and  no  one  could  say  aye, 
yes,  or  no,  as  to  what  we  should  do.     No  more  rough  talk 


Ventures  and  Adventures  63 

on  ship  board  or  at  the  table;  no  more  restrictions  if  we 
wished  to  be  a  little  closer  together.  The  glow  of  the 
cheek  had  returned  to  the  wife;  the  dimple  to  the  baby. 
And  such  a  baby.  In  the  innocence  of  our  souls  we 
really  and  truly  thought  we  had  the  smartest,  cutest  baby 
on  earth.  I  wonder  how  many  millions  of  young  parents 
have  since  experienced  that  same  feeling?  I  would  not 
tear  the  veil  from  off  their  eyes  if  I  could.  Let  them  thinlc 
so,  for  it  will  do  them  good — make  them  happy,  even  if, 
perchance,  it  should  be  an  illusion — it's  real  to  them.  But 
1  am  admonished  that  I  must  close  this  writing  now,  and 
tell  about  the  cabin,  and  the  early  garden,  and  the  trip  to 
Puget  Sound  in  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE    FIRST    CABIN. 

What  a  charm  the  words  our  first  cabin  have  to  the 
])ioneer.  To  many,  it  was  the  first  home  ever  owned  by 
them,  while  to  many  others,  like  myself,  the  first  we  ever 
had.  We  had  been  married  nearly  two  years,  yet  this 
was  really  our  first  abiding  place.  All  others  had  been 
merely  way  stations  on  the  march  westward  from  Indian- 
apolis to  this  cabin.  Built  of  small,  straight  logs,  on  a 
side  hill,  with  the  door  in  the  end  fronting  the  river,  and 
with  but  little  grading,  for  the  rocky  nature  of  the  loca- 
tion would  not  admit  of  it.  Three  steps  were  required  to 
reach  the  floor.  Tlie  ribs  projected  in  front  a  few  feet 
to  provide  an  open  front  porch,  with  a  ground  floor,  not 
for  ornament,  but  for  storage  for  the  dry  wood  and  kinding 
so  necessary  for  the  comfort  and  convenience  of  the  mis- 
tress of  the  house.  The  walls  were  but  scant  five  feet, 
with  not  a  veiy  steep  roof,  and  a  large  stone  fire  place  and 
chimney — the  latter  but  seven  feet  high — completed  our 
first  home. 

The  great  river,  nearly  a  mile  and  three-quarters  wide, 
seemed  to  tire  from  its  ceaseless  flow  at  least  once  a  day 


64  A  Busy  Life 

as  if  taking"  a  nooning  spell,  while  the  tides  from  the  ocean. 
sixty  miles  away,  contended  for  mastery,  and  sometimes 
succeeded  in  turning  the  current  up  stream.  Inmiediately 
in  front  of  our  landing  lay  a  small  island  of  a  few  acres 
in  extent,  covered  with  heavy  timber  and  drift-wood.  This 
has  long  since  disappeared  and  ships  now  pass  over  the 
spot  with  safety. 

Scarcely  had  we  become  settled  in  our  new  home  before 
there  came  a  mighty  tiood  that  covered  flic  waters  of  the 
river  with  wrecks  of  i)roperty  impossible  to  enumerate. 
Our  attention  was  immediately  turned  to  securing  logs 
that  came  floating  down  the  river  in  great  numl)ers.  Tn 
a  vei\v  short  time  we  had  a  raft  that  was  M'orth  (|uite  a 
sum  of  money  could  we  but  get  it  to  the  market.  Encour- 
aged by  this  find,  we  immediately  turned  our  attention  to 
some  fine  timber  standing  close  to  the  bank  nearby,  and 
began  hand  logging  to  supplement  what  we  had  already 
secured  afloat.  1  have  often  wondered  what  we  would 
have  done  had  it  not  been  for  this  find,  for  in  the  course 
of  seven  weeks  three  of  us  marketed  eight  hundred  dollars' 
worth  of  logs  that  enabled  us  to  obtain  flour,  even  if  we 
did  pay  fifty  dollars  a  barrel,  and  potatoes  at  two  dollars 
a  bushel,  and  sometimes  more. 

And  yet,  because  of  that  hand  logging  work,  Jane  came 
very  near  becoming  a  widow  one  morning  before  breakfast, 
but  did  not  know  of  it  until  long  afterwards.  It  occurred 
in  this  way.  We  did  hot  then  know  how  to  scai¥old  up 
a])ove  the  tough,  swelled  butts  of  the  large  trees,  and  this 
uuide  it  very  difficult  to  chop  them  down.  So  we  burned 
them  by  boring  two  holes  at  an  angle  to  meet  inside  the 
inner  bark,  and  by  getting  the  fire  started,  the  heart  of 
the  tree  would  burn,  leaving  an  outer  shell  of  bark.  One 
morning,  as  usual,  I  was  up  early,  and  after  starting  the 
fire  in  the  stove  and  putting  on  the  tea  kettle,  I  hastened 
to  the  burning  timber  to  start  afresh  the  fires,  if  per- 
(;hance,  some  had  ceased  to  l)ui'n.  Neariug  a  clumj)  of 
three  giants,  two  Iniiidrcd  and  fifty  feet  tall,  oik*  began 
toppling  over  toward   me.      in   m\    confusion    I    i-an  across 


Vkntures  and  Adventttre:^  65 

the  path  Avhere  it  fell,  ajid  while  this  had  searce  i-eached 
the  ground,  a  second  started  to  fall  almost  i)arallel  to 
the  first,  scarcely  thirty  feet  apart  at  the  top,  leaving  iiu 
between  the  two  with  limbs  flying  in  a  good  many  direc- 
tions. Tf  T  had  not  become  entangled  in  some  brush,  T 
wonkl  have  gotten  under  the  last  falling  tree.  It  was  a 
marvelous  escape,  and  would  fdmost  lead  one  to  think  that 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  charmed  life. 

The  rafting  of  our  precious  accumulations  down  the 
Columbia  River  to  Oak  Point;  the  relentless  current  that 
carried  us  by  where  we  had  contracted  our  logs  at  six 
dollars  a  thousand;  the  following  the  raft  to  the  larger 
waters,  and  finally,  to  Astoria,  where  we  sold  them  for 
eight  dollars,  instead  of  six  per  thousand,  thus  profiting 
by  our  misfortunes;  the  involuntary  plunge  off  the  raft 
into  the  river  with  my  boots  on ;  the  three  days  and  nights 
of  ceaseless  toil  and  watching  would  make  a  thrilling  story 
if  we  had  but  the  time  to  tell  it.  Our  final  success  was 
eonplete,  which  takes  off  the  keen  edge  of  the  excitement 
of  the  hour,  and  when  finished,  we  unanimously  voted  we 
would  have  none  of  it  more. 

At  Oak  Point  we  found  George  Abernethy,  former  Oov- 
ernor  of  Oregon,  who  had  quite  recently  returned  with 
his  family  from  the  "States,"  and  had  settled  down  in 
the  lumber  business.  He  had  a  mill  running  of  a  capacity 
of  about  25,000  feet  of  lumber  a  day.  It  was  a  water 
power  mill,  and  the  place  presented  quite  a  smart  business 
air  for  the  room  they  had.  But  Oak  Point  did  not  gi'ow 
to  be  much  of  a  lumber  or  business  center,  and  the  water 
mill  eventually  gave  way  to  steam,  located  elsewhere,  better 
suited  for  the  business. 

The  flour  sack  was  nearly  empty  when  we  left  home 
expecting  to  be  absent  but  one  night,  and  now  we  had 
been  gone  a  week.  There  were  no  neighbors  nearer  than 
four  miles  and  no  roads — scarcely  a  trail— the  only  com- 
munication was  by  the  river.  What  about  the  wife  and 
baby  alone  in  the  cabin  with  the  deep  timber  close  by  in 
the  rear,  and  heavy  jungle  of  brush  in  the  front?    Nothing 

6—1958 


66  A  Busy  Life 

about  it.  A¥o  found  them  all  right  upou  our  return,  but 
like  the  log  drivers  with  their  exi)erieuce,  the  little  wife 
said  she  wanted  no  more  of  cabin  life  alone.  And  yet, 
like  adventures  and  like  experiences  followed. 

The  February  sun  of  1853  shone  almost  like  midsummer. 
The  cleai-ing  grew  almost  as  if  by  magic.  We  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  to  begin  i)hinting,  and  befoi'e  March 
was  gone,  the  rows  of  peas,  lettuce,  and  onions  growing  on 
the  river  bank  could  be  seen  from  the  cabin  door,  thirty 
rods  away. 

One  day  I  noticed  some  three-cornered  bits  of  potatoes 
that  had  been  cut  out,  not  bigger  than  the  end  of  my 
finger.  These  all  I'an  to  a  point  as  though  cut  out  from 
a  pattern.  The  base,  or  outer  skin,  all  contained  an  eye 
of  the  potato.  The  wife  said  these  Avould  grow  and  would 
help  us  out  about  seed  when  planting  time  came,  and  we 
could  have  the  body  of  the  potatoes  to  eat.  That  would 
have  seemed  a  plausible  scheme  had  we  been  able  to  plant 
at  once,  but  by  this  time  we  had  been  forcibly  reminded 
that  there  was  another  impending  flood  for  June,  incident 
to  the  melting  of  the  snow  on  the  mountains,  a  thousand 
miles  away  as  the  chainiel  ran.  But  the  experiment  would 
not  cost  much,  so  the  potato  eyes  were  cai-efully  saved  and 
spread  out  on  shelves  where  they  became  so  dry  that  they 
would  rattle  like  dry  onion  sets  when  handled.  Every 
steamer  out^Aard  bound  carried  potatoes  for  the  San  Fran- 
cisco market,  until  it  became  a  question  whether  enough 
would  be  left  for  seed,  so  that  three  and  even  four  cents 
per  pound  was  asked  and  paid  for  sorry  looking  culls. 
We  must  have  seed,  and  so,  after  experimenting  with  the 
dried  eyes,  planted  in  moist  earth  in  a  box  kept  warm  in 
the  cabin,  we  became  convinced  that  the  little  lady  of  the 
household  was  right,  so  ate  potatoes  freely  even  at  these 
famine  prices.  Sure  enough,  the  flood  came,  the  planting 
delayed  until  July,  and  yet  a  crop  was  raised  that  undug 
brought  in  nearly  four  hundred  dollars,  for  we  did  not 
stay  to  harvest  them,  or  in  fact,  cultivate  them,  leaving 
that  to  another  who  became  interested  in  the  venture. 


Vkntiirks  and  Advkntukks  67 

Jn  April,  llic  word  Ix'i^mh  to  ])nss  aromul  that  we  were 
to  have  a.  new  Teri'itoi-y  to  eiiibi'aee  the  eouiitiy  north  of 
the  Cohuubia  lliver,  with  its  capital  on  Puget  Sound,  and 
liere  on  the  Columbia  we  would  be  way  olf  to  one  side  and 
out  of  touch  witli  the  [)eople  who  would  shortly  l)ecome  a 
great,  separate  commonwealth.  Besides,  had  we  not  come 
all  the  way  across  the  plains  to  get  to  the  Sea  Board,  and 
here  we  were  simply  on  the  bank  of  a  river — a  great  river 
to  be  sure,  with  its  ship  channel,  but  then,  that  bar  at  the 
mouth,  what  abont  it  ?  Then  the  June  freshet,  what  about 
that? 

So,  leaving  the  little  wife  and  baby  in  the  cabin  home, 
one  bright  morning  in  May,  my  brother  Oliver  and  my- 
self made  each  of  us  a  pack  of  forty  pounds  and  took  the 
trailj  bound  for  Puget  Sound,  camping  where  night  over- 
took us,  and  sleeping  in  the  open  air  without  shelter  or 
cover  other  than  that  afforded  by  some  friendly  tree  with 
drooping  limbs.  Our  trail  first  led  us  down  near  the  right 
bank  of  the  Columbia  to  the  Cowlitz,  thence  up  the  latter 
river  thirty  miles  or  more,  and  then  across  the  country 
nearly  sixty  miles  to  Olympia,  and  to  the  salt  sea  water 
of  the  Pacific  sent  inland  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  by 
the  resistless  tides,  twice  a  day  for  every  day  of  the  year. 

Our  expectations  had  been  raised  by  the  glowing  ac- 
counts about  Puget  Sound,  and  so,  when  we  could  see  in 
the  foreground  but  bare,  dismal  nuid  flats,  and  beyond 
but  a  few  miles,  of  water  with  a  channel  scarce  twice  as 
wide  as  the  channel  of  the  great  river  we  had  left,  bounded 
on  either  side  by  high  table,  heavily  timbered  land,  a  feel- 
ing of  deej)  disappointment  fell  upon  us,  with  the  wish 
that  we  were  back  at  our  cabin  on  the  river. 

Should  we  turn  around  and  go  back?  No,  that  was 
what  we  had  not  yet  done  since  leaving  our  Indiana  home 
eighteen  months  before ;  but  what  was  the  use  of  stopping 
here?  We  wanted  a  place  to  make  a  farm,  and  we  could 
not  do  it  on  such  forbidding  land  as  this.  Had  not  the 
little  wife  and  I  made  a  solemn  bargain  or  compact,  before 
we  were  married  that  we  were  going  to  be  farmers?    Here. 


68  A  Busy  Life 

1  could  see  a  dense  forest  stretched  out  before  ine  quite 
interesting  to  the  luuiberinan,  and  for  aught  I  know,  elian- 
nels  for  the  ships,  l)ut  I  wanted  to  be  neither  a  lunibernian 
nor  sailor,  and  so  my  first  camp  on  Puget  Sound  was  not 
cheerful  and  my  first  night  not  passed  in  contentment. 

Olympia  at  the  time  contained  about  100  inhabitants. 
It  could  boast  having  three  stores,  a  hotel,  a  livery  stable, 
and  saloon,  with  one  weekly  newsiDaper,  then  publishing 
its  thirtieth  number.  A  glance  at  the  advertising  columns 
of  this  paper,  the  "Columbian,"  (named  for  what  w^as 
expected  would  be  the  name  of  the  new  Territory)  dis- 
closed but  few  local  advertisers,  the  two  pages  devoted  to 
advertising  being  filled  by  announcements  of  business  other 
than  in  Olympia.  "Everybody  knows  everybody  here," 
said  a  business  man  to  me,  "so  what's  the  use  of  adver- 
tising. ' '  And  it  was  tlius  with  those  who  had  been  in  the 
place  for  a  few  weeks,  and  so  it  continued  all  over  the 
pioneer  settlements  for  years.  To  meet  a  man  on  the  road 
or  on  the  street  without  speaking  was  considered  rude.  It 
became  the  universal  practice  to  greet  even  strangers  as 
well  as  acquaintances,  and  to  this  day  I  doubt  if  there  are 
many  of  the  old  settlers  yet  devoid  of  the  impulse  to  pass 
the  time  of  day  with  hearty  greetings  to  whomsoever  they 
may  meet,  be  they  acquaintances  or  strangers. 

Edmund  Sylvester  in  partuersliip  with  Levi  L.  Smitli, 
located  tlie  claims  where  the  town  of  Olympia  is  built,  in 
1848.  Mr.  Smith  soon  after  died,  leaving  Sylvester  as 
sole  proprietor  of  the  town,  wdiere  I  sa^^'  him,  as  it  will 
appear,  five  years  later.  It  is  said  that  Colonel  I.  N. 
Ebey  suggested  the  name  Olympia,  which  was  not  given 
to  the  place  until  after  Mr.  Sylvester's  flight  to  the  gold 
mines  of  California  and  return  in  1850. 

But  we  could  not  stay  here  at  Olympia.  We  had  pushed 
on  past  some  good  locations  on  the  Chehalis,  and  further 
south,  Nvitliout  locating,  and  now,  should  we  retrace  our 
steps  t  Brother  Oliver  said  no.  My  better  judgment  said 
no,  though  sorely  pressed  with  that  feeling  of  homesick- 
ness, or  blues,  or  whatever  we  may  call  it.     The  resolve 


Venti^res  and  Adventttres  69 

was  quickly  made  that  we  would  see  more  of  this  Puget 
Sound,  that  we  wei-e  told  preseuted  nearly  as  many  miles 
of  sliore  line  as  we  had  traveled  westward  from  the  Mis- 
soui-i  Kiver  to  Portland,  near  sixteen  liundred  miles,  and 
which  we  afterwards  found  to  be  t inc. 

But  how  were  w^e  to  go  and  see  these,  to  us  nnexplored 
watei's ;  1  said  I  would  not  go  in  one  of  those  things,  the 
Indian  canoe,  that  we  would  upset  it  before  we  were  out 
half  an  hour.  Brother  Oliver  pointed  to  the  fact  the 
Indians  navigated  the  whole  Sound  in  these  canoes,  and 
were  safe,  but  I  was  inexorable  and  w^ould  not  trust  mj- 
carcass  in  a  craft  that  would  tip  so  easily  as  a  Si  wash 
canoe.  When  I  came  to  know  the  Indians  better,  1  ceased 
to  use  such  a  term,  and  afterwards  when  I  saw  the  per- 
formances of  these  apparently  frail  craft,  my  admiration 
was  greater  in  degree  than  my  contemi)t  had  been. 

Of  the  cruise  that  followed  on  Puget  Sound,  and  in  what 
manrier  of  craft  we  made  it,  and  of  various  incidents  of 
the  trip  that  occupied  a  month,  1  must  defer  telling  now, 
and  leave  this  ])art  of  the  story  for  succeeding  chapters. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

CRUISE    ON    PUGET    SOITND. 

Put  yourself  in  my  place,  reader,  for  a  time— long 
enough  to  read  this  chapter.  Think  of  yourself  as  young 
again,  if  elderly  (T  will  not  say  old)  :  play  you  have  been 
old  and  now  young  again,  until  you  find  out  about  this 
trip  on  Puget  Sound  fiftj'  and  more  years  ago.  Then 
think  of  Puget  Sound  in  an  inquiring  mood,  as  though 
you  knew,  nothing  about  it,  only  a  little  indefinite  hear- 
say; enough  to  know  there  is  such  a  name,  but  not  what 
manner  of  place  or  hoAv  large  or  how  small ;  whether  it 
was  one  single  channel,  like  a  river,  or  numerous  chan- 
nels ;  whether  it  was  a  bay  or  a  series  of  bays  o)-  wiiether 
it  was  a  lake,  but  somehow  connected   with   the  sea,  and 


70  A  Busy  Lipr 

then  you  will  be  in  the  mood  these  two  young  men  were, 
when  they  descended  the  hill  with  their  packs  on  their 
backs  and  entered  the  town  of  Olynipia  in  May,  1853. 
Now,  if  you  are  in  this  inquiring  mood,  I  will  take  you 
in  my  confidence  and  we- will  live  the  cruise  over  again  of 
thirty-two  days  of  adventures  and  observation  on  Puget 
Sound  sixty-two  years  ago. 

I  was  but  a  few  months  past  twenty-three,  while  my 
brother  Oliver  could  claim  nearly  two  years'  seniority. 
We  had  always  played  together  as  boys,  worked  together 
as  men,  and  lived  together  ever  after  his  marriage  until 
the  day  of  his  death,  now  nearly  sixty  years  ago,  and  so 
far  as  I  can  remember,  never  had  a  disagreement  in  our 
whole  life. 

So,  when  we  cast  oft'  the  line  at  Olympia,  on  or  about 
the  28th  day  of  May,  1853,  we  were  assured  of  one  thing 
and  that  was  a  concert  of  action,  be  there  danger  or  only 
labor  ahead.  Neither  of  us  had  had  much  experience  in 
boating,  and  none  as  to  boat  building,  but  when  we  decided 
to  make  the  trip  and  discard  the  idea  of  taking  a  canoe 
we  set  to  work  with  a  hearty  good  will  to  build  us  a  skift' 
out  of  light  lumber,  then  easily  obtained  at  the  Tumwater 
mill  of  Hays,  Ward  &  Co.,  in  business  at  that  place. 

We  determined  to  have  the  skiff  broad  enough  to  not 
upset  easily,  and  long  enough  to  carry  us  and  our  light 
cargo  of  food  and  bedding.  Like  the  trip  across  the  plains 
we  must  provide  our  own  transportation.  We  were  told 
that  the  Sound  was  a  solitude  so  far  as  transportation 
facilities,  with  here  and  there  a  vessel  loading  piles  and 
square  timber  for  the  San  Francisco  market.  Not  a 
steamer  was  then  plying  on  the  Sound;  not  even  a  sailing 
craft  that  essayed  to  carry  passengers.  We  did  not  really 
know  whether  we  would  go  twenty  miles  or  a  hundred ; 
whether  we  would  find  small  waters  or  large ;  straight 
channels  oi-  iulricate  by-ways ;  in  a,  word  we  knew  Init 
very  little  of  what  lay  before  us.  If  we  had  known  a  little 
more,  we  would  not  have  encouiiteriHl  the  risks  we  did. 
One  thing  we  knew,  we  could  cndui'c  sturdy  labor  without 


Ventttres  and  Adventures  71 

fatijE^ie,  and  improvised  camp  without  diseomfoi-t,  for  we 
were  used  to  just  sucli  experiences.  Poor  innocent  souls, 
we  thought  we  could  follow  the  shore  line  and  thus  avoid 
danger,  and  perhaps  float  with  the  tide  and  thus  minimize 
the  labor,  and  yet  keep  our  bearings. 

George  A.  Barnes  sold  us  the  nails  and  oakum  for  build- 
ing the  boat  and  charged  us  25  cents  per  pound  for  the 
former,  but  could  not  sell  us  any  pitch  as  that  was  to  be 
had  for  the  taking.  However,  articles  of  merchandise  were 
not  high,  though  country  produce  sold  for  extreme  prices. 

Recently  I  have  seen  a  "retail  prices  current  of  Puget 
Sound,  Washington  Tenntory,  coi-rected  weekly  by  Parker, 
Colter  &  Co.,"  in  which,  among  numy  others,  the  follow- 
ing prices  are  quoted  in  the  columns  of  the  only  paper  in 
the  Territory  then  published  in  Olympia,  the  "Columbian," 
as  follows : 

Pork,  per  lb.,  20c;  flour,  per  100  lbs.,  -i^lO.OO;  potatoes, 
per  bushel,  $3.00;  butter,  per  lb.,  $1.00;  onions,  per  bushel, 
$4.00;  eggs,  per  dozen,  $1.00;  beets,  per  bushel,  $3.50; 
sugar,  per  lb.,  12|c;  coffee,  per  lb.,  18c ;  tea,  per  lb.,  75c 
and  $1.00;  molasses,  per  gallon,  50c  and  75c ;  salmon,  per 
lb.,  10c ;  whisky,  per  gallon.  $1.00;  sawed  lumber,  fir,  per 
M,  $20.00;  cedar,  per  M,  $30.00;  shingles,  per  M,  $4.25  to 
$5.00;  piles,  per  foot,  5c  to  8c;  square  timber,  per  foot.  12c 
to  15c. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  what  the  farmer  had  to  sell  Avas 
high  while  much  he  must  buy  was  comparatively  cheap, 
even  his  whisky,  then  but  a  dollar  a  gallon,  while  his 
potatoes  sold  for  $3.00  a  bushel. 

This  Parker,  of  Parker,  Colter  &  Co.,  is  the  same  John 
C  Parker,  Jr.,  of  steamboat  fame  who  yet  lives  in  Olympia. 
now  an  old  man,  but  never  contented  without  his  hand  on 
the  wheel  in  the  pilot  house,  where  I  saw^  him  but  a  few 
years  ago  on  his  new  steamer  the  Caswell,  successor  to  his 
first,  the  Traveler,  of  fifty  years  before. 

Two  or  three  other  stores  besides  Barnes'  and  Parker's 
were  then  doing  liusiness  in  Olympia,  the  Kandall  Com- 


72  A  BnsY  Life 

pany,  with  Joseph  (^ishmaii  as  agent;  A.  J.  Moses,  and 
I  think  the  Bettman  Brothers. 

Rev.  Benjamin  F.  C'lose,  Methodist,  hehl  religious  service 
in  a  small  building  near  Barnes'  store,  but  there  was  no 
church  edifice  for  several  years.  Near  by,  the  salpon  ele- 
ment had  found  a  foothold,  but  I  made  no  note  of  them  in 
my  mind  other  than  to  remember  they  were  tliere  and 
running  every  day  of  the  week  including  Sunday. 

The  townsite  proprietor,  Edmund  Sylvester,  kept  the 
hotel  of  the  town,  the  "Washington,"  at  the  corner  of 
2nd  and  Main  Street,  a  locality  now  held  to  be  too  far 
down  on  the  water  front,  but  then  the  center  of  trade  and 
traffic. 

G.  N.  McConaha  and  J.  W.  Wiley  disjiensed  the  law  and 
H.  A.  Goldsborougli  &  Simmons  (M.  T.  Sinunons)  looked 
out  for  the  real  estate  and  conveyances.  Add  to  these  a 
bakery,  a  livery  stable,  and  a  blacksmith  shop  and  we 
have  the  town  of  Olympia  in  our  mind  again  of  possibly 
100  people  who  then  believed  a  great  future  lay  in  store 
for  their  embryo  city  "at  the  head  of  Puget  Sound." 

Three  leading  questions  occupied  the  attention  of  all 
parties  while  we  were  in  this  little  ambitious  city,  the 
new  Territorial  organization  so  soon  to  be  inaugurated, 
the  question  of  an  overland  railroad,  and  of  an  over  moun- 
tain immigrant  wagon  road.  The  last  was  the  absorbing 
topic  of  conversation,  as  it  was  a  live  enterprise  dependent 
upon  the  efforts  of  the  citizens  for  success.  Meetings  had 
been  held  in  different  parts  of  the  district  west  of  the 
Cascade  Mountains  and  north  of  the  Columbia  River,  and 
finally  subscription  lists  were  circulated,  a  cashier  and 
superintendent  api)ointed,  with  the  result,  as  stated  else- 
where, of  opening  the  way  for  the  first  immigration  over 
the  Cascade  Mountains  via  the  Natchess  Pass,  but  the  par- 
ticulars of  this  work  are  given  in  other  chapters  following. 

As  the  tide  drew  off  the  placid  waters  of  the  bay  at 
Olympia  with  just  a  breath  of  air,  our  little  craft  behaved 
splendidly  as  the  slight  ripples  were  jostled  against  the 
bow  under  the  pressure  of  the  sail   and   brought  dreams 


Ventures  and  Adventuues  73 

of  ;i  i)leasure  trip,  to  make  amends  for  llic  tiresome  pack 
across  llie  country.  Nothing  can  be  moi'c  enjoyable  than 
favorable  conditions  in  i\  boating  tri{),  the  more  specially 
to  those  who  have  long  been  in  the  harness  of  severe  labor, 
and  for  a  season  must  enjoy  enforced  I'epose.  And  so  we 
lazily  floated  with  the  tide,  sometimes  taking  a  few  strokes 
with  the  oars,  and  at  other  times  whistling  for  the  wind, 
as  the  little  town  of  Olyrapia  to  the  south,  became  dimmed 
by  distance. 

At  this  southern  extrenuty  of  the  Sound  without  the 
accumulation  of  water  to  sti-nggle  for  passage,  as  through 
the  channel  to  the  north,  the  movement  is  neither  swift,  noi* 
disturbed  with  cross  currents  to  agitate  the  surface — more 
like  the  steady  flow  of  a  great  river. 

But  we  were  no  sooner  fairly  out  of  sight  of  the  little 
village  and  out  of  the  bay  it  was  situated  upon  (Budd's 
Inlet),  than  the  query  came  up  as  to  which  way  to  go. 
Was  it  this  channel  or  that  or  yet  another  one  we  should 
take'/  Let  the  tide  decide;  that  will  take  us  out  toward 
the  ocean  we  urged.  No,  we  are  drifting  into  another 
bay ;  that  cannot  be  where  we  want  to  go ;  why,  we  ar(^ 
drifting  right  back  almost  in  the  same  direction  from  which 
we  came,  but  into  another  bay.  We'll  pull  this  way  to 
that  point  to  the  northeast.  But  there  seems  a  greater 
opening  of  waters  to  the  northwest ;  yes,  but  I  do  not 
see  any  way  out  there.  Neither  is  there  beyond  that  point 
(Johnson's  Point)  ;  and  so  we  talked  and  pulled  and 
puzzled  until  finally  it  dawned  upon  us  that  the  tide  had 
turned  and  we  were  being  carried  back  to  almost  the  spot 
from  whence  we  came,  into  South  Bay. 

"Now  the  very  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  camp,"  said 
the  senior  of  the  party  of  two,  to  which  the  junior,  your 
humble  writer,  readily  assented,  and  so  our  first  night's 
camp  w^as  scarcely  twelve  miles  from  where  we  had  started 
in  the  morning. 

What  a  nice  camping  place  this.  The  ladies  would  say 
lovely,  and  why  not?  A  beautiful  pebbly  beach  that  ex- 
tended almost  to  the  water's  edge  even  at  low  tide  with 


74  A  Busy  Life 

a  nice  grassy  level  spit ;  a  back  ground  of  evergreen  giant 
fir  timber;  such  clear,  cool  water  gushing  out  from  the 
bank  near  by,  so  super]ati\'e  in  ({uality  as  to  defy  words 
to  adequately  describe;  and  such  fuel  for  the  camp  fire, 
broken  fir  limbs  with  just  enough  pitch  to  make  a  cheerful 
blaze  and  yet  body  enough  to  last  well.  Why,  we  felt  so 
happy  that  we  were  almost  glad  the  journey  had  been 
interrupted.  Oliver  was  the  carpenter  of  the  party,  the 
tent  builder,  wood  getter,  and  general  roust-a-bout,  to  coin 
a  word  from  camp  parlance,  while  I,  the  junior,  was  the 
"chief  cook  and  bottle  washer,"  as  the  senior  would  jocu- 
larly put  it. 

At  the  point  a  little  ))eyond  where  we  landed  we  found 
next  morning  J.  R.  Johnson,  M.  D.,  with  his  cabin  on  the 
point  under  the  pretentious  name  of  "Johnson's  Hospital," 
opened  as  he  said  for  the  benefit  of  the  sick,  but  which, 
from  what  I  saw  in  my  later  trips  I  think  his  greatest  busi- 
ness was  in  disposing  of  cheap  whisky  of  which  he  con- 
tributed his  si)are  of  the  patronage. 

An  Indian  encampment  being  near  by,  a  party  of  them 
soon  visited  our  camp  and  began  making  signs  for  trade. 
"Mika  tik-eh  clams?"  came  from  out  the  mouth  of  one 
of  the  matrons  of  the  party  as  if  though  half  choked  in  the 
speaking,  a  cross  between  a  spoken  word  and  a  smothered 
guttural  sound  in  the  throat. 

"What  does  she  say,  Oliver?"  the  junior  said,  turning 
for  counsel  to  the  superior  wisdom  of  the  elder  brother. 

"I'm  blessed  if  I  know  what  she  says,  but  she  evidently 
v/ants  to  sell  some  clams." 

And  so,  after  considerable  dickering,  and  by  signs  and 
gestures  and  words  oft  repeated  we  were  able  to  impart 
the  information  that  we  wanted  a  lesson  in  cookery ;  that 
we  wanted  her  to  show  us  how  to  cook  them,  and  that 
we  would  buy  some.  This  brought  sonu^  merriment  in  the 
camp.  The  idea,  that  there  lived  a  person  that  did  not 
know  how  to  cook  clams.  Without  saying  by  your  leave 
or  anything  else  the  motherly  looking  native  began  tear- 
ing down  our  camp  fire. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  75 

"Let  her  alone,"  said  the  senior,  "and  see  wliat  she's 
np  to/'  uotieing  tliat  the  j^ouiiger  man  was  going  to  re- 
monstrate against  such  an  interference  with  his  well  laid 
plans  for  bread  baking.  And  so  the  kitchen  of  the  camp 
was  surrendered  to  the  native  matron,  who  quietly  covered 
tlie  hot  pebbles  and  sand  where  the  fire  had  been,  with  a 
lighter  layer  of  pebbles,  upon  which  the  clams  were  de- 
posited and  some  fine  twigs  placed  on  top,  upon  which 
earth  was  deposited.  ' ' K-1-o-s-h-e, ' '  said  the  matron.  ' ' Hy- 
as-kloshe,"  said  her  seignior,  who  sat  squatting  watching 
the  operation  with  evident  pride  upon  the  achievement  of 
his  dame. 

"What  did  they  say?"  innocently  inquired  the  junior 
brother. 

"I  know  what  they  said,  but  I  don't  know  what  they 
meant,"  responded  the  elder  one,  "unless  it  v/as  she  had 
done  a  good  job,  which  I  think  she  has,"  and  thus  began 
and  ended  our  first  lesson  in  the  Chinook  jargon,  and  our 
first  introduction  to  a  clam  bake. 

What  memories  hover  around  these  three  words,  "the 
clam  bake."  Did  you  ever,  may  1  ask  my  readers,  other 
than  those  of  ye  olden  times,  did  you  ever  participate  in 
the  joys  of  a  regular  old-fashioned  clam  bake,  with  or 
without  the  corn,  with  or  without  the  help  of  the  deft 
native  hand?  If  you  never  have,  then  go  straightway, 
before  you  die,  to  the  end  that  you  may  ever  after  have 
the  memory  of  the  first  clam  bake,  even  if  it  be  but  a 
memory,  and  likewise  be  the  last. 

Our  first  clam  bake  gave  us  great  encouragement.  We 
soon  learned  that  these  bivalves  were  to  be  found  in  almost 
unlimited  quantity,  and  were  widely  distributed ;  that  the 
harvest  was  ready  twice  a  day,  when  the  tide  was  out,  and 
that  we  need  have  no  fear  of  a  famine  even  if  cast  away 
in  some  unfrequented  place. 

"Yah-ka  kloshe  al-ta, "  said  the  dame,  uncovering  the 
steaming  mass  and  placing  them  on  a  sliver  found  near 
by  "de-late  kloshe;  kloshe  muck-a-muck  al-ta,''  and  so, 
without  understanding  what  she  said,  but   knowing  well 


76  A  Busy  Life 

what  she  meant,  we  fell  to  in  disposing  of  tliis,  oui-  first 
elain  dinner. 

Dividing-  with  them  the  hread  that  had  ])een  baked,  and 
some  potatoes  that  had  been  boiled,  the  natives  soon  with- 
drew to  their  own  camp,  where,  before  retiring  for  the 
night,  we  repaid  the  visit. 

To  see  the  little  fellows  of  the  earn})  send  behind  the 
mother  M'hen  the  strangers  entered,  and  shyly  peep  out 
from  their  retreat,  and  the  mother  lovingly  reassuring  them 
with  kind,  affectionate  caresses,  and  finally  coaxing  them 
out  from  under  cover,  revealed  the  character  of  the  natives 
we  had  neither  of  us  realized  before.  We  had  been  in  the 
Indian  country  for  nearly  a  year,  but  with  guns  by  our 
side  if  not  in  our  hands  for  nearly  half  the  time,  while 
on  the  plains,  but  we  had  not  stopped  to  study  the  Indian 
character.  We  took  it  for  granted  that  the  Indians  were 
our  enemies  and  watched  them  suspiciously  accordingly, 
but  here  seemed  to  be  a  disposition  manifested  to  be  neigh- 
borly and  helpful.  We  took  a  lesson  in  Chinook,  and  by 
signs  and  words  combined  held  conversation  until  a  late 
hour,  when,  upon  getting  ready  for  taking  leave,  a  slice 
of  venison  was  handed  us,  sufficient  for  several  meals. 
Upon  offering  to  pay  for  it  we  were  met  with  a  shake  of 
the  head,  and  with  the  words,  "wake,  wake,  kul-tus-pot- 
latch,"  which  we  understood  by  their  actions  to  mean  they 
made  us  a  present  of  it. 

This  present  from  the  Indian  let  in  a  flood  of  light  upon 
the  Indian  character.  We  had  made  them  a  present  first, 
it  was  true,  but  did  not  expect  any  return,  exceiit  per- 
haps good  will,  and  in  fact,  cannot  now  say  we  particularly 
expected  that,  but  were  impelled  to  do  our  act  of  courtesy 
from  the  manner  of  their  treatment  and  from  the  evident 
desire  to  be  on  friendly  terms.  From  that  time  on  during 
the  trip,  and  I  may  say,  for  all  time  since,  I  have  found 
the  Indians  of  Puget  Sound  ready  to  reciprocate  acts  of 
kindness,  and  hold  in  high  esteem  a  favor  granted  if  not 
accompanied  by  acts  apparently  designed  to  simi)ly  gain 
an  advantage. 


V^KNTl'KKS    AM)    A  DVIONTTKHS  77 

We  often  forget  the  sharp  eyes  and  ears  of  little  chil- 
dren and  let  slip  words  that  are  (piickly  absorlx'd  to  their 
hurt  by  afifecting  their  eondnet.  While  the  Indian  is  really 
not  a  suspicions  person,  nevertheless,  he  is  quick  to  detect 
and  as  quick  to  resent  a  real  or  supposed  slight  as  tin; 
little  five-year-old  who  discovers  his  elders  in  their  fibs 
or  deceit.  Not  that  the  Indian  expects  socially  to  be  re- 
ceived in  your  house  or  at  your  table,  yet  little  acts  of 
kindness,  if  done  without  apparent  design,  touch  their 
better  nature  and  are  repaid  more  than  a  hundi'ed  fold, 
for  you  thereafter  have  a  fi'iend  and  neighbor,  and  not  an 
enemy  or  suspicious  maligner. 

All  of  this  did  not  dawn  on  the  young  men  at  the  time, 
though  their  treatment  of  the  Indians  was  in  harmony  with 
friendly  feelings  which  we  found  everywhere  and  made  a 
lasting  impression. 

Subsequent  exi)ei-ience,  of  course,  has  confirmed  these 
first  impressions  ^nth  the  wider  field  of  observation  in 
after  years,  while  employing  large  numbers  of  these  x^eople 
in  the  hop  fields  of  which  I  hope  to  write  later.  And  so 
now  must  end  this  chapter  with  the  subject  of  the  "cruise" 
to  be  continued  at  another  sitting. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CRUISE    ON    PUGET    SOUND. 

"Keep  to  the  right,  as  the  law  directs,"  is  an  old  western 
adage  that  governs  travelers  on  the  road,  but  we  kept  to 
the  right  because  Ave  wanted  to  follow  the  shore  as  we 
thought  it  safer,  and  besides,  why  not  go  that  way  as  well 
as  any  other, — it  was  all  new  to  us.  So,  on  the  second 
morning,  as  we  rounded  Johnson's  Point  and  saw  no  chan 
nel  opening  in  any  direction ;  saw  only  water  in  the  fore- 
ground and  timber  beyond,  we  concluded  to  skirt  the  coast 
line  and  see  what  the  day  would  bring  forth.  This  led  us 
a  southeasterly  course  and  in  part  doubling  back  with  that 


78  A  Busy  Life 

traveled  the  previous  day,  and  past  what  became  the  his- 
torical groniids  of  the  Medicine  C'reek  Treaty  Council,  or, 
rather  leaving  this  two  miles  to  our  right  as  the  Nis(iually 
flats  were  encountered.  Here  we  were  crowded  to  a  north- 
erly course,  leaving  the  Nisqually  House  on  llie  beach  to 
the  east  without  stopping  for  investigation. 

According  to  Finlayson's  journal,  as  1  afterwards  as- 
certained, this  had  been  built  twenty-three  years  before. 
At  least,  some  house  had  been  built  on  this  spot  at  that 
time  (1829  or  1830),  though  the  fort  by  that  name  one- 
fourth  mile  back  from  the  water  was  not  constructed  until 
the  sunnner  of  1833,  just  twenty  years  previous  to  our 
visit. 

This  fort  mentioned  must  not  be  confounded  with  the 
Nisqually  fort  built  some  three  years  later  (1836)  a  mile 
farther  east  and  convenient  to  the  waters  of  Segwalitchew 
Creek,  which  there  runs  near  tlie  surface  of  the  surround- 
ing country.  All  remains  of  the  old  fort,  have  long  since 
vanished,  but  the  nearly  filled  trenches  where  the  stockade 
timbers  stood  can  yet  be  traced,  showing  that  a  space  250 
feet  square  had  been  enclosed.  Another  visible  sign  was 
an  apple  tree  yet  alive  near  the  spot,  grown  from  seed 
planted  in  1833,  but  now,  when  I  visited  the  place  in 
June,  1903,  overshadowed  hy  a  lusty  fir  that  is  sapping 
the  life  of  the  only  living,  though  mute,  witness  (except 
it  may  be  the  Indian,  Steilacoom)  we  have  of  those  early 
days,  when  the  first  fort  was  built  by  the  intre]iid  em]iloyes 
of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company. 

An  interesting  feature  of  the  intervening  space  between 
the  old  and  the  newer  fort  is  the  dense  growth  of  fir  timber 
averaging  nearly  two  feet  in  diameter  and  in  some  cases 
fully  three,  and  over  a  hundi-ed  feet  high  on  what  was 
prairie  when  the  (^ai-ly  fort  builders  began  work.  The  land 
upon  which  lliis  timber  is  growing  still  shows  unmistakable 
signs  of  tile  fnri'ow  marks  that  can  be  traced  tlirougli  the 
forest.  Verily,  this  is  a  most  wonderful  country  where 
forest  product  will  grow,  if  pi-operly  protected,  more 
rapidly  than  the  hand  of  man  will  destroy. 


Ventmrks  and  AnvioNTHKEs  79 

As  the  tide  and  wind  favored  lis  we  did  iiol  stop,  but 
iiad  not  jiroeeeded  far  hel'ore  we  came  in  si^lit  ol"  a  fleet 
of  ^;evl'n  Ncssels  lyini^'  at  aneliof  in  a  lari^'e  l)a,>'  of  se\-ei'al 
miles  iji  extent. 

Upon  the  eastern  slope  of  the  shores  of  this  bay  lay  the 
two  towns,  Port  Steilaeooni,  established  January  28d, 
1851,  by  Captain  Lafayette  Uakh,  and  Steilaeooni  (-ity, 
upon  an  adjoining  land  claim  taken  by  John  B.  Chap- 
man, August  23rd,  of  same  year  and  later  held  by  his 
son,  John  M.  Chapman.  These  two  rival  towns  were  built 
as  far  apart  as  possible  on  the  frontage  lands  of  the  claim 
owners  (about  one  mile  apart)  and  became  known  locally 
as  Upper  and  Lower  Steilaeooni,  the  latter  name  being 
applied  to  Balch's  town. 

We  found  the  stocks  of  goods  carried  by  the  merchants 
of  these  two  towns  exceeded  those  held  by  the  Olyrapia 
merchants,  and  that  at  Foi't  Nis(|ually,  six  miles  distant,  the 
merchandise  carried  by  the  Puget  Sound  Agricultural  Com- 
pany would  probably  etiual  that  of  all  three  of  the  towns 
combined,  possibly,  in  the  aggregate,  over  one  hundred 
thousand  dollars  for  the  whole  district  under  review. 

Evidently  a  far  larger  trade  centered  on  Steilacoom  Bay 
and  vicinity  than  at  any  other  point  we  had  seen  and,  as 
wo  found  afterwards,  than  any  other  point  on  Puget  Sound. 
Naturally  we  would  here  call  a  halt  to  examine  the  coun- 
try and  to  make  ourselves  acquainted  with  the  surronnd- 
ings  that  made  this  early  center  of  trade. 

One  mile  and  a  half  back  from  the  shore  and  east  of 
lower  Steilacoom  we  found  what  was  by  courtesy  called 
Fort  Steilacoom  but  which  was  sim])ly  a  cami)  of  a  coiu- 
l)any  of  United  States  soldiers  in  wooden  shells  of  houses 
and  log  cabins.  This  cam])  or  fort  had  been  established 
by  Captain  Bennett  H.  Hill  with  Company  M,  1st  Artil- 
lery, August  27th,  1849,  following  the  attempted  robbery 
of  Fort  Nisqually  the  previous  May  by  Pat  Kanim  and  his 
followers,  the  Snoqualmie  Indians. 

Dr.  Tolmie,  Chief  Factoi-  of  the  Puget  Sound  Agricul- 
tui-al  Company  at  Fort  Nisqually,  (juickly  seized  the  op- 


80  A  Busy  Life 

portunity  to  demand  rent  from  the  United  States  for  the 
oeeupajiey  of  the  site  of  Fort  Steilacoora,  of  six  hundred 
dollars  a  year,  and  actually  received  it  for  fifteen  years 
and  until  the  final  award  was  made  extinguishing  the 
claims  of  his  company.  We  found  the  plains  alive  with 
this  company's  stock  (many  thousand  head)  running  at 
large  and  fattened  upon  the  scant  but  nutritious  grass 
growing  upon  the  adjacent  prairie  and  glade  lands. 

Balch  and  Webber  were  doing  a  thriving  trade  in  their 
store  at  the  little  town  of  Steilacoom,  besides  their  shipping 
trade  of  piles  and  square  timber,  shingles,  lumber,  cord 
wood,  hides,  furs,  fish,  and  other  odds  and  ends.  Just 
across  the  street  from  their  store  stood  the  main  hotel  of 
the  place  with  the  unique  history  of  being  the  only  building 
erected  on  Puget  Sound  from  lumber  shipped  from  the 
eastern  seaboard.  Captain  Balch  brought  the  building 
with  him  from  Maine,  ready  to  set  up.  At  the  upper  town 
Philip  Keach  was  merchandising  while  Abner  Martin  kept 
a  hotel.  Intense  rivalry  ran  between  the  two  towns  in  the 
early  days  when  we  were  at  Seilacoom. 

Thomas  M.  Chambers,  father  of  the  prominent  members 
of  the  Olympia  community  of  that  name,  had  built  a  saw- 
mill on  Steilacoom  creek,  two  miles  from  the  town,  and  a 
grist  mill  where  farmers  oftentimes  came  with  pebbles  in 
their  wheat  to  dull  the  bui'rs. 

We  are  wont  now  to  speak  of  this  place  as  "poor  old 
Steilacoom,"  with  its  tumbled-down  houses,  rotting  side- 
walks and  decayed  wharves;  the  last  vestige  of  the  latter 
of  which  has  disajJi^eared ;  but  then  everything  was  new, 
with  an  air  of  business  bustle  that  made  one  feel  here  was 
a  center  of  trade.  Tlic  sight  of  those  seven  vessels  lying  in 
the  offing  made  a  profound  impression  upon  our  minds. 
We  had  never  before  seen  so  many  ships  at  one  place  as 
were  quietly  lying  at  anchor  in  front  of  the  embyro  city. 
Curiously  enough,  here  was  the  very  identical  vessel  we 
had  first  seen  on  the  Willamette  River,  the  bark  "Mary 
Mciville,"  with  her  gruff  mate  and  big  hearted  master, 
C'd\)t.  l^arstoii,   witli   wliom  the  reader  has  been  iruide  ac- 


Vkntures  and  Advkntiiuks  81 

qiiaiiit(Ml  ill  a  previous  cliai)tei-.  I  took  no  special  note  of 
the  naiues  of  these  vessels  otliei-  than  this  one,  hut  ffom 
the  eohinins  of  the  Columbian  1  am  able  to  glean  the  names 
of  tr\venty-1\v()  vessels,  brigs,  barks,  and  schooners,  then  ply 
ing  between  Puget  Sound  and  San  Francisco,  which  are 
as  follows: 

Brig    Cyclops,    Perkins;    Bark   Delegate,   ;    Brig 

Tarquina,   ;    Bark   John   Adams,    McKelmer;    Brig 

Gr.  W.  Kendall,  Glove ;  Brig  Merchantman,  Bolton ;  Prig 
Kingsbury,  Cook ;.  Schooner  Cynosure,  Fowler ;  Brig 
George  Emery,  Diggs;  Bark  Mary  Melville,  Barston;  Bark 
Brontes,  Blinii ;  Bark  Sarah  Warren,  Gove ;  Ship  Persia, 
Brown;   Brig   I.    C.   Cabot,   Dryden ;   Brig  Jane,   Willett; 

Ship  Roweiia,  ;  Brig  Willingsly,  Gibbs;  Brig  jNIary 

Dare,  Mowatt;  Brig  John  Davis,  Pray;  Bark  Carib,  Plum- 
mer;  Brig  Leonesa,  Howard,  and  Schooner  Franklin, 
Leary.  There  were  probably  more,  but  I  do  not  recall  them, 
but  these  were  enough  to  keep  every  man  busy  that  could 
swing  an  axe,  drag  a  saw  or  handle  that  instrument  of 
torture,  the  goad  stick,  and  who  was  willing  to  work. 

All  this  activity  came  from  the  shipment  of  piles,  square 
timbers,  cordwood,  shingles,  with  small  (juantities  of  lum- 
ber— all  that  was  obtainable,  which  was  not  very  much,  to 
the  San  Francisco  market.  The  descent  of  timber  on  the 
roll-ways  sounded  like  distant  thunder,  and  could  be  heard 
almost  all  hours  of  the  day,  even  where  no  camps  were 
in  sight,  but  lay  hidden  up  some  secluded  bay  or  inlet. 

We  were  sorely  tem])ted  to  accept  the  flattering  offer 
of  $4.00  each  day  for  common  labor  in  a  timber  camp, 
but  soon  concluded  not  to  be  swerved  from  the  course  we 
had  outlined. 

It  was  here,  and  I  think  at  this  time,  I  saw  the  Indian 
"Steilacoom, "  who  still  lives.  I  saw^  him  recently  at  his 
camp  in  the  Nisqually  bottom,  and  judge  he  is  bordering 
on  ninety  years.  Steilacoom  helped  to  build  old  Fort 
Nisqually  in  1833,  and  was  a  married  man  at  that  time, 
Peoi)le  called  him  chief  because  he  happened  to  bear  the 
name  adopted  for  the  town  and  creek,  but  he  was  not  a 
7—1958 


82  A  Busy  Life 

mail  of  much  force  of  character  and  not  much  of  a  chief. 
I  tliiuk  this  is  a  remarkahk'  case  of  longevity  for  an 
Indian.  As  a  race,  they  are  short  lived.  It  Avas  here,  and 
during  this  visit,  we  began  seeing  Indians  in  considerable 
numbers.  Otf  the  mouth  of  the  Nisqually  and  several 
l^laces  along  the  beach  and  floating  on  the  bay  we  saw 
several  hundred  in  the  aggregate  of  all  ages  and  kind. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  pei'fect  abandon  as  to  care  or  thought 
for  the  future,  or  even  as  to  the  immediate  present,  literally 
floating  with  the  tide.  In  those  days,  the  Indians  seemed 
to  work  or  play  by  spurts  and  spells.  Here  and  there  that 
day  a  family  might  be  seen  industriously  pursuing  some 
object,  but  as  a  class  there  seemed  to  be  but  little  life  in 
them,  and  we  concluded  they  were  the  laziest  set  on  earth. 
I  afterwards  materially  modified  that  opinion,  as  I  became 
better  acquainted  with  their  habits,  for  I  have  found  just 
as  industrious  Indians,  both  men  and  women,  and  as  re- 
liable workers,  as  among  the  whites,  though  this  class,  it 
may  be  said,  is  exceptional  with  the  men.  The  women  are 
all  industrious. 

Shall  we  camp  here  and  spy  out  the  land,  or  shall  we 
go  forward  and  see  what  lay  before  us?  Here  were  the 
ideals,  that  had  enticed  us  so  far  from  our  old  home,  where 
"ships  went  down  into  the  sea,"  with  the  trade  of  the 
Vk'hole  world  l)efore  us.  We  waxed  eloquent,  catching  in- 
spiration from  people  of  the  town.  After  a  second  sober 
thought  we  found  we  had  nothing  to  trade  but  labor,  and 
we  had  not  come  this  far  to  be  laborers  for  hire.  We  had 
come  to  look  up  a  place  to  make  a  farm  and  a  farm  we 
were  going  to  have.  We,  therefore,  set  about  searching 
for  claims,  and  the  more  we  searched  the  less  we  liked  the 
looks  of  things. 

The  gravelly  i)lains  near  Sleilacoom  would  not  do: 
neither  the  heavy  fir  timber  lands  skirting  the  waters  of 
the  Sound,  and  we  were  nonpulsed  and  almost  ready  to 
condemn  the  country.  Finally,  on  the  fourth  day  after 
a  long,  wearisome  tramp,  we  cast  off  at  higli  tide,  and  in  a 
dead  calm,  to  continue  our  cruise.    The  senior  soon  dropped 


Vp:ntures  and  Adventures  83 

into  a  (M)iiif()i-tH])le  Jiftci-iioon  naj),  leaving  me  in  full  coiii- 
mand.  As  tlio  sun  shone  nice  and  warm  and  the  tide  was 
taking  us  rapidly  in  the  direction  we  wanted  to  go.  why 
not  join,  even  it'  we  did  lose  the  sight  seeing  for  which  the 
journey  was  made. 

I  was  shortly  after  aroused  by  the  senior  exclaiming. 
''What  is  that?"  and  then  answering  half  to  himself  and 
half  to  me,  ""Why,  as  I  live,  it's  a  deer  swimming  way  out 
here  in  the  bay."  Answering,  half  asleep  and  half  awake, 
that  that  could  not  be,  the  senioi-  said:  "Well,  that's 
what  it  is."  We  gave  chase  and  soon  succeeded  in  getting 
a  rope  over  its  horns.  We  had  by  this  time  drifted  into 
the  Narrows,  and  soon  found  that  we  had  something  more 
important  to  look  after  than  towing  a  deer  among  the 
tide-rips  of  the  Sound,  and  turning  him  loose  pulled  for 
dear  life  for  the  shore,  and  found  shelter  in  an  eddy.  A 
]:)erpendicular  bluff  rose  from  the  high  water  mark,  leav- 
ing no  place  for  a  camp  fire  or  bed.  The  tide  seemed  to 
roll  in  waves  and  Avith  contending  forces  of  currents  and 
counter  currents,  yet  all  moving  in  a  general  direction. 
It  was  our  first  introduction  to  a  real  genuine,  live  tide- 
rip,  that  seemed  to  hany  the  waters  as  if  boiling  in  a 
veritable  caldron,  swelling  up  here  and  there  in  centers 
to  whirl  in  dizzy  velocity  and  at  times  break  into  a  foam, 
and,  where  a  light  breeze  prevailed,  into  spray.  Then  in 
some  areas  it  would  seem  the  waters  in  solid  volume  would 
leap  up  in  conical,  or  pointed  shape — small  waves  broken 
into  short  sections,  that  would  make  it  quite  difficult  for 
a  flat  bottom  boat  like  our  little  skiff  to  float  veiy  long. 
We  congratulated  ourselves  upon  the  escape,  while  be- 
littling our  careless  imitation  of  the  natives  of  floating 
with  the  tide.  Just  then  some  Indian  canoes  passed  along 
moving  with  the  tide.  We  expected  to  see  them  swamped 
as  they  encountered  the  troubled  waters,  but  to  our  aston- 
ishment they  passed  right  through  without  taking  a  drop 
of  watpr.  Then  here  came  two  well  manned  canoes  creep- 
ing along  shore  against  the  tide.  I  have  said  well-manned, 
but  in  fact,  half  the  paddles  were  wielded  by  women,  and 


84  A  Busy  Life 

the  ])Ost  of  honor,  or  that  where  most  dexterity  was  re- 
quired, was  occupied  by  a  woman.  In  shore,  short  eddies 
would  favor  llie  party,  to  be  ended  by  a  severe  tug  against 
tlie  stitit'  current. 

' ' Me-si-ka-kwass  kopa  s'kookum  chuck,"  said  the  maiden 
in  the  bow  of  the  first  canoe,  as  it  drew  along  side  our 
boat,  in  which  we  were  sitting. 

Since  our  evening's  experience  tit  the  clam  bake  camp, 
we  had  been  industriously  studying  language,  and  pretty 
well  nuistered  tlie  Chinook,  and  so  we  with  little  ditficulty 
understood  her  to  ask  if  we  were  afraid  of  the  rough 
waters,  to  which  we  responded,  part  in  English  and  part 
in  Chinook,  that  we  were,  and  besides  that  it  was  impossible 
for  us  to  proceed  against  the  strong  current. 

"Ne-si-ka  mit-lite,"  that  is  to  say,  she  said  they  were 
going  to  camp  with  us  and  wait  for  the  turn  of  the  tide, 
and  accordingly  landed  near  by,  and  so  Ave  must  wait  for 
the  remainder  of  this  story  in  chapters  to  follow. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CRITI8E    ON    PUGET    SOUND. 

By  the  time  the  tide  had  turned,  night  had  come  and 
we  were  in  a  quandary  as  to  what  to  do ;  whether  to  camp 
in  our  boat,  or  to  start  out  on  unknown  waters  in  the 
dark.  Our  Indian  visitors  began  making  preparations  to 
proceed  on  their  journey,  and  assured  us  it  was  all  right 
ahead,  and  offered  to  show  us  the  way  to  good  camping 
grounds  in  a  big  bay  where  the  current  was  not  strong, 
and  where  we  would  find  a  great  number  of  Indians  in 
camp. 

It  did  not  occur  to  us  to  h;iv(^  any  fear  of  the  Indians 
We  did  not  at  all  depend  on  oui-  prowess  or  personal  cour- 
age, but  felt  that  we  were  among  friends.  We  iiad  ])y  this 
time  come  to  know  the  general  feeling  existing  between 
Indians  find   wliites,  and  that  there  was  no  trouble,  as  a 


Ventures  and  Advkntim^ks  85 

class,  whatever  there  iiiiglit  l)e  as  to  individuals.  1  do 
not  want  my  reader  to  understand  we  thought  we  were 
doing  an  heroic  act  in  following  a  strange  party  of  Indians 
into  nnkndwn  waters  and  into  an  unknown  camp  of  tiie 
natives  after  dark,  or  that  I  think  so  now.  There  was 
no  danger  ahead  of  us  other  than  that  incident  to  tlie 
attempt  of  navigating  such  waters  with  so  frail  a  boat, 
and  one  so  unsuited  in  shape  as  well  as  build,  for  rough 
waters,  and  hy  persons  so  inexperienced  on  the  water. 

►Sure  enough,  a  short  pull  with  a  favorable  current, 
brought  us  through  the  Narrows  and  into  Connuencement 
Bay  and  in  sight  of  numerous  camp  fires  in  the  distance. 
Our  Indian  friends  lazily  paddled  along  in  company,  while 
we  labored  vigorously  Avith  our  oars  as  we  were  by  this 
time  in  a  mood  to  find  a  camp  where  we  could  have  a  fire 
and  prepare  some  food.  I  remember  that  camp  quite 
vividly,  though  cannot  locate  it  exactly,  but  know  that  it 
was  on  the  water  front  within  the  present  limits  of  the 
city  of  Tacoma.  A  beautiful  small  rivulet  came  down  a 
ravine  and  spread  out  on  the  beach,  and  I  can  remember 
the  shore  line  was  not  precipitous  and  that  it  was  a 
splendid  camping  ground.  The  particular  thing  T  do  re- 
member is  our  supper  of  fresh  salmon.  Of  all  the  delicious 
fish  known,  give  me  the  salmon  caught  by  trolling  in  early 
summer  in  the  deep  waters  of  Puget  Sound;  so  fat  that 
the  excess  of  oil  must  be  turned  out  of  the  pan  while  cook- 
ing. We  had  not  then  learned  the  art  of  cooking  on  the 
spit,  or  at  least,  did  not  practice  it.  We  had  scarcely  gotten 
our  camp  fire  under  way  liefore  a  salmon  was  offered  us, 
but  I  cannot  recall  what  we  paid,  but  I  know  it  was  not 
a  high  price,  else  we  would  not  have  purchased.  At  the 
time  we  did  not  know  but  trolling  in  deep  water  for  this 
king  of  fish  was  the  only  way,  but  afterwards  learned  of 
the  enormous  quantities  taken  by  the  seine  direct  from 
salt  water. 

Two  gentlemen.  Messrs.  Swan  and  Riley,  had  establishetl 
themselves  on  the  bay,  and  later  in  the  season  reported 
taking  two  thousand  large  fish  at  one  haul  with  their  seine. 


86  A  Busy  Life 

tlireo-fourtlis  of  wiiieh  were  salmon.  As  I  have  a  fish  story 
of  iny  own  to  tell  of  onr  experience  later,  I  will  dismiss  the 
subject  for  the  present. 

We  were  now  in  the  bay,  since  made  famous  in  history 
by  that  observing  traveler,  Theodore  Winthrop,  who  came 
from  the  north  a  few  months  later,  and  saw  the  great 
mountain,  ''a  cloud  compeller, ''  reflected  in  the  placid 
waters  of  the  Sound,  "Tacoma"*  as  he  wrote,  Rainier, 
as  we  saw  it.  A  beautiful  sight  it  was  and  is  whatever 
the  name,  but  to  us  it  was  whatever  others  said  it  was, 
while  Winthrop,  of  a  poetic  mind,  was  on  the  alert  for 
something  new  under  the  sun.  if  it  be  no  more  than  a  name 
for  a  great  mountain. 

Winthrop  came  in  September,  while  we  were  in  the  bay 
in  June,  thus  ante-dating  his  trip  by  three  months  or  more. 
To  Winthrop  belong^  the  honor  of  originating  the  name 
Tacoma  fi-om  some  word  claimed  to  liave  been  spoken  by 
the  Indians  as  the  name  of  the  mountain.  As  none  of  the 
pioneers  ever  heard  the  word  until  many  years  afterwards, 
and  not  then  until  after  the  posthumous  publication  of 
Winthrop 's  works  ten  years  after  his  visit,  I  incline  to  the 
opinion  that  Winthrop  coined  the  word  out  of  his  imagi- 
native brain. 

We  again  caught  sight  of  the  mountain  the  next  day, 

*Winthrop,  in  his  delightful  book,  "The  Canoe  and  the  Saddle,"  describing  his  trip 
from  Port  Townsend  to  Nisqually,  in  September,  1853,  says: 

"We  had  rounded  a  point  and  opened  Puyallup  Bay,  a  breath  of  sheltered  calmness, 
when  I,  lifting  sleepy  eyelids  for  a  dreamy  stare  about,  was  suddenly  aware  of  a  vast  white 
shadow  in  the  water.  What  cloud,  piled  massive  on  the  horizon,  could  east  an  image 
so  sharp  in  outline,  so  full  of  vigorous  detail  of  surface?  No  cloud,  as  my  stare,  no  longer 
dreamy,  presently  discovered — no  cloud,  but  a  cloud  compeller.  It  was  a  giant  mountain 
dome  of  snow,  swelling  and  seeming  to  fill  the  aerial  spheres  as  its  image  displaced  the 
blue  deeps  of  tranquil  water.  The  smoky  haze  of  an  Oregon  August  hid  all  the  length 
of  its  lesser  ridges,  and  left  this  mighty  summit  based  upon  uplifting  dimness.  Only  its 
splendid  snows  were  visible,  high  in  the  unearthly  regions  of  blue  noonday  sky.  The 
shore  line  drew  a  cincture  of  pines  across  its  broad  base,  where  it  faded  unreal  into  the 
mist.  The  same  flark  girth  separated  the  peak  from  its  reflection,  over  which  my  canoe 
was  now  pressing,  and  sending  wavering  swells  to  scatter  the  beautiful  vision  liefore  it. 

"Kindly  and  alone  stood  this  majesty,  without  any  visible  consort,  though  far  to  the 
north  and  to  the  south  its  brethren  and  sisters  dominated  their  realms,  each  in  isolated 
sovereignty,  rising  from  the  pine-darkened  sierra  of  the  Cascade  Mountains — above  the 
stern  chasm  whore  the  C'olumbia,  .Xchilles  of  rivers,  sweeps,  short  lived  and  jubilant, 
to  the  sea — above  the  lovely  valley  of  (he  Willamette  and  Ningua.  Of  all  the  peaks  from 
California  to  Frazier  River,  this  one  was  royalest.  Mount  Regnier,  Christians  have 
dubbed  it  in  stupid  nomenclature,  perpetuating  the  name  of  somebody  or  nobody.  More 
melodiouslv  the  Siwashes  call  itTacoma — a  generic  term ,  also  applied  to  all  snow  peaks." 


88  A  Busy  Life 

as  we  approached  the  tide  flats  off  the  moiitli  of  the  Pnyal- 
liip  River.  We  viewed  the  nioiuitain  with  awe  and  ad- 
miration, but  gave  no  special  heed  to  it,  more  than  to  many 
other  new  scenes  engaging  our  attention.  It  was  land  we 
wanted  whei-eby  we  might  stake  a  claim,  and  not  sceneiy 
to  tickle  our  fancy.  Yet,  I  donbt  if  there  lives  a  man,  or 
ever  did,  who  has  seen  that  great  mountain,  but  has  been 
inspired  with  higher  thoughts,  and  we  may  say  higher 
aspirations,  or  who  has  ever  tired  looking  upon  this  grand 
pile,  the  father  of  five  great  rivers. 

We  floated  into  the  mouth  of  the  Puyallup  River  with  a 
vague  feeling  as  to  its  value,  but  did  not  proceed  far  until 
we  were  interrupted  by  a  solid  drift  of  monster  trees  and 
logs,  extending  from  bank  to  bank  up  the  river  for  a 
(juarter  of  a  mile  or  more.  We  were  told  by  the  Indians 
there  were  two  other  like  obstructions  a  few  miles  farther 
up  the  river,  and  that  the  current  was  "  de-late-hyas-skoo- 
kum,"  which  interpreted  means  that  the  current  was  very 
strong.  We  found  this  to  be  literally  true  during  the  next 
two  or  three  days  we  spent  on  the  river. 

We  secured  the  services  of  an  Indian  and  his  canoe  to 
help  us  up  the  river,  and  left  our  boat  at  the  Indian's 
camp  near  the  mouth. 

The  tug  of  two  days  to  get  six  miles  up  the  river,  the 
unloading  of  our  outfit  three  times  to  pack  it  over  cut- 
off trails,  and  the  dragging  of  our  canoe  around  the  drifts, 
is  a  story  of  constant  toil  with  conser|uent  discourage- 
ment, not  ending  until  we  camped  on  the  bank  of  the 
river  within  the  present  limits  of  the  little  thriving  city 
of  Puyallup,  founded  aftei'wards  by  me  on  a  homestead 
claim  taken  many  years  later.  The  little  city  now  con- 
tains over  six  thousand  inhabitants  and  is  destined  to  con- 
tain many  thousand  more  in  the  lapse  of  time. 

The  Puyallup  Valley  at  that  time  was  a  solitude.  No 
white  settlers  were  found,  though  it  was  known  two.  who 
lived  with  Indian  women,  had  staked  claims  and  made 
some  sliglit  improvements — a  man  by  the  name  of  Hay- 
wai'd.  Ileal-  wliei-c  the  town  of  Sumner  is  now  located,  and 


Ventures  and  Adventures  89 

William  liensoii,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  i-iver,  ajid  a 
mile  distant  from  the  boundaries  of  Puyalluj).  An  Indian 
trail  led  u])  the  river  from  Connnencement  Bay,  and  one 
westward  to  the  Nisqually  plains,  over  which  pack  animals 
could  pass,  but  as  to  wagon  roads,  there  were  none,  and 
as  to  whether  a  feasible  route  for  one  eould  be  found  only 
time  with  much  labor  could  determine. 

When  we  retraced  our  steps,  and  on  the  evening-  of  the 
third  tlay  landed  again  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  after  a 
severe  day's  toil  of  packing  around  drifts  and  hauling  the 
canoe  overland  past  drifts,  it  was  evident  we  were  in  no 
cheerful  mood.  Oliver  did  not  sing  as  usual  while  pre- 
paring for  camp,  or  i-ally  with  sallies  of  wit  and  humor 
as  he  was  wont  to  do  when  in  a  hapi)y  mood.  Neither  did 
T  have  much  to  say,  but  fell  to  work  mechanically  prepar- 
ing the  much  needed  meal,  which  we  ate  in  silence,  and 
forthwith  wrapped  ourselves  in  our  blankets  for  the  night, 
but  not  for  immediate  slumber. 

We  had  crossed  the  two  great  states  of  Illinois  and 
Iowa,  over  hundreds  of  miles  of  unoccupied  prairie  land 
as  rich  as  anything  that  "ever  laid  out  of  doors,"  on  our 
w^ay  from  Indiana  to  Oregon,  in  search  of  land  on  which 
to  make  a  home,  and  here,  at  what  we  might  say  "at  the 
end  of  our  rope"  had  found  the  land,  but  under  such 
adverse  conditions  that  seemed  almost  too  much  to  over- 
come. It  was  a  discouraging  outlook,  even  if  there  had 
been  roads.  Such  timber!  It  seemed  an  appalling  under- 
taking to  clear  it,  the  gi^eater  portion  being  covered  with 
a  heavy  growth  of  balm  and  alder  trees,  and  thick  tangle 
of  underbrush  besides,  and  so,  when  we  did  fall  to  sleep 
that  night,  it  was  without  visions  of  new  found  wealth. 

And  yet,  later,  I  did  tackle  a  quarter  section  of  that 
heaviest  timber  land,  and  never  let  up  until  the  last  tree. 
log,  stump,  and  root  disappeared,  though  of  course,  not 
all  of  it  by  my  own  hands.  Nevertheless,  with  a  goodly 
part,  I  did  say,  come,  boys,  and  went  into  the  thickest  of 
the  work. 

But,  of  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  there  was  more 


90  A  Busy  Life 

to  consider  than  tlie  mere  clearing,  which  we  estimated 
would  take  thirteen  years  of  solid  Avork  for  one  man  to 
clear  a  quarter-section ;  the  (|uestion  of  going  Avhere  abso- 
lutely there  were  no  neighbors,  no  roads,  no  help  to  open 
them,  and  in  fact,  without  a  knowledge  as  to  whether  a 
feasible  route  could  be  found,  compelled  us  to  decide  against 
locating. 

A  small  factor  came  in  to  be  considered.  Such  swarms 
of  mosquitoes  we  had  never  seen  before.  These  we  felt 
would  make  life  a  l)urden,  forgetting  that  as  the  country 
became  opened  tliey  would  disappear.  I  may  relate  here 
a  curious  phenomenon  l)rought  to  light  by  after  experi- 
ence. My  donation  claim  was  finally  located  on  high  table 
land,  where  no  surface  water  could  be  found  in  summer 
for  miles  around,  and  there  were  swarms  of  mosquitoes, 
while  on  the  Puyallup  liomestead  taken  later,  six  miles 
from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and  where  water  lay  on  the 
surface,  in  spots,  the  whole  summer  long,  we  seldom  saw 
one  of  these  pests  there.  I  never  could  account  for  this, 
and  have  long  since  ceased  to  try ;  I  only  know  it  was  so. 

If  we  could  have  but  known  what  was  coming  four 
months  later,  doubt  not,  notwithstanding  our  discourage- 
ment, we  would  have  remained  and  searched  the  valley 
diligently  for  the  choicest  locations.  In  October  following, 
there  came  the  first  immigrants  that  ever  crossed  the  Cas- 
cade Mountains,  and  located  in  a  body  nearly  all  of  the 
whole  valley,  and  before  the  year  was  ended  had  a  rough 
wagon  road  out  to  the  prairies  and  to  Steilacoom,  the 
county  seat. 

As  T  will  give  an  account  of  the  struggles  and  trials  of 
these  people  later  in  this  work,  I  will  here  dismiss  the 
subject  by  saying  that  no  pioneer  who  settled  in  the  Puy- 
allup Valley,  and  stuck  to  it,  failed  finally  to  prosper  and 
gain  a  competence. 

We  lingered  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  in  doubt  as  to 
what  best  to  do.  My  thoughts  went  back  to  the  wife  and 
baby  in  the  lonely  cabin  on  the  Columbia  River,  and  then 
again  to  that  bargain  w(>  had  made  l)efore  marriage  that 


Ventures  and  7\i)VKNTiiin';s  91 

we  were  going  to  l)e  farmers,  and  how  could  we  l)e  farmers 
if  we  di<l  not  have  the  hind?  Under  the  donation  act  we 
could  hold  three  hundred  and  twenty  aeres,  but  we  must 
live  on  it  for  four  years,  and  so  it  behooved  us  to  look  out 
and  secure  our  location  before  the  act  expired,  which  would 
occui"  the  following-  year.  So,  with  misgivings  and  doubts, 
we  finally,  on  the  fourth  day,  loaded  our  outfit  into  our 
skifit"  and  floated  out  on  the  receding  tide,  whither,  we  did 
not  know. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CRUISE    ON    PUGET    .SOUND. 

As  we  drew  off  on  the  tide  from  the  mouth  of  the  Puy- 
allup  River,  numerous  i)arties  of  Indians  were  in  sight, 
some  trolling  for  salmon,  with  a  lone  Indian  in  the  bow 
of  his  canoe,  others  with  a  pole  with  barbs  on  two  sides 
fishing  for  smelt,  and  used  in  place  of  a  paddle,  while 
again,  others  with  nets,  all  leisurely  pui'suing  their  calling, 
or  more  accurately  speaking,  seemed  waiting  for  a  fisher- 
man's luck.  Again,  other  parties  were  passing,  singing 
a  plaintive  ditty  in  minor  key  with  two  or  more  voices, 
accompanied  by  lieavy  strokes  of  the  paddle  handle  against 
the  side  of  the  canoe,  as  if  to  keep  time.  There  were  really 
some  splendid  female  voices  to  be  heard,  as  well  as  male, 
and  though  there  were  but  slight  variations  in  the  sounds 
or  words,  they  seemed  never  to  tire  in  repeating,  and,  I 
must  confess,  we  never  tired  listening.  Then,  at  times,  a 
break  in  the  singing  would  be  followed  by  a  hearty  laugh, 
or  perhaps  a  salutation  be  given  in  a  loud  tone  to  some 
distant  part}',  which  would  always  bring  a  response,  and 
with  the  resumption  of  the  paddles,  like  the  sailors  on  the 
block  and  fall,  the  song  would  be  renewed,  oftentimes  to 
bring  back  a  distant  echo  from  a  bold  shore.  These  scenes 
were  I'epeated  time  and  again,  as  we  encountered  the  natives 
in  new  fields  that  constantly  opened  up  to  our  view. 

We  laid  our  course  in  the  direction  the  tide  drew  us. 


92  A  Busy  Life 

directly  to  tlio  iioi'tli  in  a  cliainiel  tlireo  miles  in  widtli,  and 
discarded  the  })l(iii  of  following-  the  slioi-e  line,  as  we  found 
so  little  variation  in  the  qnality  of  soil.  Hy  this  lime  we 
began  to  see  thai  opportunity  for  farms  on  the  immediate 
shores  of  Puget  Sound,  were  few  and  far  between — in  fact, 
we  had  seen  none.  During  the  afternoon  and  after  we 
had  traveled,  by  estimate,  near  twenty  miles,  we  saw  ahead 
of  us  larger  waters,  where,  by  continuing  our  course,  we 
would  be  in  a  bay  of  five  or  six  miles  in  width,  watli  no 
very  certain  prospect  of  a  camping  place.  Just  then  we 
spied  a  cluster  of  cabins  and  houses  on  the  point  to  the 
east,  and  made  a  landing  at  what  proved  to.  be  Alki  Point, 
the  place  then  bearing  the  pretentious  name  of  New  York. 

We  were  not  any  too  soon  in  effecting  our  landing,  as 
the  tide  had  turned  and  a  slight  breeze  had  met  it,  the  two 
together  disturbing  the  w^ater  in  a  manner  to  make  it 
uncomfortable  for  us  in  our  flat  bottomed  boat. 

Here  we  met  the  irrepressible  C.  C.  TeiTy,  proprietor 
of  the  new  townsite,  but  keenly  alive  to  the  importance  of 
adding  to  the  population  of  his  new  town.  But  we  were 
not  hunting  townsites.  and  of  course  lent  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
argiunents  set  forth  in  favor  of  the  place. 

(*aptain  William  Renton  had  built  some  sort  of  a  saw- 
mill there,  had  laid  the  foundation  to  his  great  fortune 
accumulated  later  at  Port  Blakely,  a  few  miles  to  the 
west,  to  which  point  he  later  removed.  Terry  afterwards 
g^ve  up  the  contest,  and  removed  to  Seattle. 

We  soon  pushed  on  over  to  the  east  where  the  steam 
from  a  saw-mill  served  as  the  giuding  star,  and  landed  at 
a  point  that  cannot  have  been  far  removed  from  the  west 
limit  of  the  present  Pioneer  Place  of  Seattle,  near  where 
the  totem  {)ole  n.ow  stands. 

Here  we  found  the  never  to  be  forgotten  Yesler.  not 
whittling  his  pine  stick  as  in  later  years,  but  as  a  wide 
awake  business  man,  on  the  alei't  to  drive  a  trade  when 
an  ()})p()r-tunity  offered,  or  spin  a  yarn,  if  ])ei-chance  time 
would  admit.  1  cannot  recall  meeting  J\lr.  Denny,  Ihougli 
1    made  his  acipiaintance  soon  after  at  my  owji  caltin  on 


Ventttres  and  Adventures  OH 

McNeil's  Island.  In  fact,  wo  did  iiol  stay  very  long  in 
Seattle,  not  being'  very  favorably  iiiii)i('ssed  with  the  plaee. 
Tlicrc  was  Jiol  iniicli  of  a  town,  pfobahly  twenty  cabins 
in  all,  with  a  few  newer  i'l-amc  lioiiscs.  The  slandiiii>'  tim- 
ber could  scarcely  have  been  fail  her  removed  than  to  be 
out  of  reach  of  the  mill,  and  of  course,  scarcely  the  sem- 
blance of  a  street.  The  lagoon  presented  an  uninviting 
appearance  and  scent,  wliere  the  process  of  filling  witli 
slabs  and  sawdust  had  already  begun.  The  mill,  though, 
infused  activity  in  its  immediate  vicinity,  and  was  really 
the  life  of  the  place. 

As  we  were  not  looking  for  a  millsite  or  a  townsite,  we 
pushed  on  north  the  next  day.  We  had  gone  but  a  few 
miles  until  a  favorable  breeze  sprang  up,  bringing  with 
it  visions  of  a  happy  time  sailing,  but  with  the  long  stretch 
of  open  waters  back  of  us  of  ten  miles,  or  more,  and  of 
several  miles  in  width,  and  with  no  visible  shelter  ahead 
of  us,  or  lessening  of  width  of  w^aters,  we  soon  felt  the 
breeze  was  not  so  welcome  after  all.  We  became  doubtful 
as  to  the  safety  of  sailing,  and  were  hy  this  time  aware  of 
the  difficulty  of  rowing  a  small,  flat-bottom  boat  in  rough 
waters  with  one  oar  sometimes  in  the  water  and  the  othei' 
in  the  air,  to  be  suddenly  reversed.  While  the  wind  was 
in  our  favor,  yet  the  boat  became  almost  unmanageal)le 
with  the  oars.  The  sail  once  down  was  not  so  easy  to  get 
up  again,  with  the  boat  tipping  first  one  way  and  then 
another,  as  she  fell  off  in  the  trough  of  the  waves.  But 
finally  the  sail  was  set  again,  and  we  scudded  before  the 
wind  at  a  rapid  rate,  not  feeling  sure  of  our  bearings,  or 
what  was  going  to  happen.  The  bay  looked  to  us  as  if 
it  might  be  five  miles  or  more  wide,  and  in  fact,  with  the 
lowering  weather,  we  could  not  determine  the  extent.  The 
east  shore  lay  off  to  our  right  a  half  a  mile  or  so  distant, 
where  we  could  see  the  rainiatui'e  waves  break  on  the 
beach,  and  at  times  catch  the  sound  as  they  rolled  up  on 
the  gravel  banks.  We  soon  realized  our  danger,  luit  feared 
to  attempt  a  landing  in  the  surf.  Evidently  the  wind  was 
increasing,  the  clouds  weie  coming  down  lower  and   i-ain 


94  A  Busy  Life 

began  to  fall.  There  was  but  one  thing  to  do.  We  must 
make  a  landing,  and  so  the  sail  was  hastily  taken  down 
again,  and  the  junior  of  the  party  took  to  the  oars,  while 
the  senior  sat  in  the  stern  with  i)addle  in  hand  to  keep 
the  boat  steady  on  her  course,  and  help  a  little  as  oppor- 
tunity offered.  But  fortune  favored  us  in  luckily  finding 
a  smooth  pebbly  beach,  and  while  we  got  a  good  drenching 
in  landing,  and  the  boat  partially  filled  before  we  could 
haul  her  up  out  of  reach  of  the  surf,  j^et  Ave  lost  nothing 
outright,  and  suffered  but  slight  loss  by  daniage  from 
water.  We  were  glad  enough  to  get  ashore  and  thankful 
that  the  mishap  was  no  worse.  Luckily  our  matches  were 
dry  and  a  half  hour  or  so  sufficed  to  build  a  rousing  camp 
fire,  haul  our  boat  aliove  high  tide,  to  utilize  it  as  a  wiml 
break  and  roof  turned  bottom  up  at  an  angle  of  forty-five 
degrees.  Just  how  long  we  were  compelled  to  remain  in 
this  camp,  I  cannot  recall,  but  certainly  two  days,  and  I 
think  three,  but  we  did  not  explore  the  adjacent  land  much, 
as  the  rain  kept  us  close  in  camp.  And  it  was  a  dismal 
camp,  although  we  had  plenty  to  eat  and  could  keep  dry 
and  warm.  AVe  here  practiced  the  lesson  taught  us  the 
evening  of  our  first  camp,  by  the  native  matron,  and  had 
plenty  of  clams  to  supplement  our  other  provisions  during 
the  whole  period,  and  by  the  time  we  broke  up  camp,  con- 
cluded we  were  expert  clam-bakers.  But  all  such  incidents 
must  have  an  end,  and  so  the  time  came  when  we  broke 
camp  and  pulled  for  the  head  of  Whidby's  Island,  a  few 
miles  off  to  the  northwest. 

And  now  I  have  a  fish  story  to  tell.  I  have  always  been 
shy  of  telling  it,  lest  some  smart  one  should  up  and  say 
1  was  just  telling  a  yarn  and  drawing  on  my  imagination, 
but,  ''honor  bright,"  I  am  not.  But  to  be  sure  of  credence, 
I  will  print  the  following  telegram  recently  received,  which, 
as  it  is  printed  in  a  newspaper,  must  be  true : 

"Naiiaimo,  B.  C,  Friday,  Jan.  2!). — Another  tremendous 
destruction  of  hei'ring  occurred  on  the  siiores  of  Protection 
Island  a  day  or  two  ago  in  exactly  the  same  way  as  took 
place   near   Departure   Bay   about   three   weeks  ago,    and 


Ventures  and  Adventures  95 

today  the  entire  atmosphere  of  the  city  carries  the  nauseous 
smell  of  thousands  upon  thousands  of  tons  of  decaying  fish 
which  threatens  an  epidemic  of  si(;kness. 

"The  dead  fish  now  cover  the  shores  of  Protection  Island 
continuously  for  three  miles  to  a  depth  ranging  all  the 
way  from  fifteen  inches  to  three  feet.  The  air  is  black 
with  sea  gulls.  So  thick  have  the  fish  been  at  times  that 
were  a  fishing  boat  caught  in  the  channel  while  a  shoal  of 
herring  was  passing,  the  rush  of  fish  would  literally  lift 
the  boat  out  of  the  water." 

We  had  not  proceeded  far  before  we  heard  a  dull  sound 
like  that  often  heard  from  the  tide-rips  where  the  current 
meets  and  disturl)s  the  waters  as  like  in  a  boiling  caldron. 
But  as  we  ap})roached  the  disturbance,  we  found  it  was 
different  from  anything  we  had  seen  or  heard  before.  As 
we  rested  on  our  oars,  we  could  see  that  the  disturbance 
was  moving  up  toward  us,  and  that  it  extended  as  far  as 
we  could  see,  in  the  direction  we  were  going.  The  sound 
had  increased  and  became  as  like  the  roar  of  a  heavy  rain- 
fall, or  hailstorm  in  water,  and  we  became  aware  that  it 
was  a  vast  school  of  fish  moving  south,  while  millions  were 
seemingly  dancing  on  the  surface  of  the  water  and  leaping 
in  the  air.  We  could  sensibly  feel  them  striking  against 
the  boat  in  such  vast  numbers  as  to  fairly  move  it  as  we 
lay  at  ease.  The  leap  in  the  air  was  so  high  as  to  suggest 
tipping  the  boat  to  catch  some  as  they  fell  back,  and  sure 
enough,  here  and  there  one  would  leap  into  the  boat.  We 
soon  discovered  some  Indians  following  the  school,  who 
(piickly  loaded  their  canoes  by  using  the  barbed  pole  as  a 
paddle  and  throwing  the  impaled  fish  into  their  canoes  in 
surprising  numbers.  We  soon  obtained  all  we  wanted  by 
an  improvised  net. 

We  were  headed  for  Whidby's  Island,  where,  it  was 
reported,  rich  prairie  land  could  be  found.  The  bay  here 
at  the  head  of  the  island  was  six  or  seven  miles  wide  and 
there  was  no  way  by  which  we  could  keep  near  shore. 
Remembering  the  experience  of  a  few  days  before,  in 
waters  not  so  large  as  hei-e,  the  younger  of  the  two  con- 


96  A  Busy  Life 

fidcd  ]iis  fears  to  his  older  eonipanioii.  tliat  it  was  unwise 
to  loiter  and  fish,  howsoever  novel  and  interesting,  and  so 
heiran  pulling  vigorously  at  the  oars  to  find  himself  greatly 
eiid)arrassed  hy  the  mass  of  fish  moving  in  the  water.  So 
Far  as  w(^  eould  see  there  was  no  end  to  the  school  ahead 
of  us,  the  water,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  presenting 
the  appearance  shown  with  a  heavy  fall  of  hail.  It  did 
seem  at  times  as  if  the  air  was  literally  filled  with  fish, 
hut  we  finally  got  rid  of  the  moving  mass,  and  reached  the 
island  shore  in  safety,  only  to  hecome  again  weather  ])Ound 
in  an  uninhahited  district  of  country  that  showed  no  signs 
of  the  handiwoi'k  of  civilized  man. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

CRUISE    ON    PUGET    SOUND. 

This  camp  did  not  i)rove  so  dreary  as  the  last  one, 
though  more  exposed  to  the  swell  of  the  big  waters  to 
the  north,  and  sweep  of  the  wind.  To  the  north  we  had 
a  view  of  thirty  miles  or  more,  where  the  horizon  and  water 
blend,  leaving  one  in  doubt  whether  land  was  in  sight  or 
not,  though  as  w^e  afterwards  ascertained,  our  vision  could 
reach  the  famous  San  Juan  Island,  later  the  bone  of  con- 
tention between  our  Grovernment  and  Great  Britain.  Port 
Townsend  lay  some  ten  miles  northerly  from  our  camp, 
but  was  shut  out  from  view  by  an  intervening  headland. 
Marrowstone  Point  lay  about  midway  between  the  two, 
but  we  did  not  know  the  exact  location  of  the  town,  or 
for  that  matter,  of  our  own.  AVe  knew,  like  the  lost 
hunters,  Avhere  we  were,  but  the  trouble  was,  we  "didn't 
know  where  any  place  else  was";  not  lost  ourselves,  but 
the  world  was  lost  from  us.  In  front  of  us,  the  channel 
of  Admiralty  Inlet,  here  hut  alxuit  four  miles  wide, 
stretched  out  to  the  north  into  a  fathomless  sea  of  waters 
that  for  aught  we  knew,  opened  into  the  wdde  ocean.  Three 
ships  passed  us  while  at  this  camp,  onc^  coming,  as  it  would 


Ventures  and  Advkntures  97 

seem.  Iroiii  oiil  of  spMcc,  ;i  mci-c  speek,  to  a  fiill-Hciliied. 
deep-sea  vessel,  with  all  sails  set,  scudding  before  the  wind 
and  passing  np  the  channel  past  ns  on  the  way  to  the 
anchorage  of  the  seven  vessels,  the  other  two  gracefully 
beating  their  way  out  against  the  stiflf  breeze  to  tlie  open 
waters  beyond.  What  prettier  sight  can  one  see  than  a 
full-rigged  vessel  with  all  sails  spread,  either  beating  or 
sailing  before  the  wind?  Oui-  enthusiasm,  at  the  sight, 
knew  no  bounds ;  we  felt  like  cheering,  clapping  our  hands, 
or  adopting  any  other  method  of  manifesting  our  pleasure. 
We  had,  as  a  matter  of  prudence,  canvassed  the  question 
of  returning  from  this  camp  as  soon  as  released  from  this 
stress  of  weather,  to  the  bay  of  the  anchored  ships  in  the 
more  southern  ^v'aters,  but  the  sight  of  these  ships,  and  the 
sight  of  this  expanse  of  waters,  coupled  with  perhaps  a 
spirit  of  adventure,  prompted  us  to  quietly  bide  our  time 
and  to  go  farther,  when  released. 

When  I  look  back  upon  tha^t  decision,  and  in  fact,  upon 
this  whole  incident  of  my  life,  I  stand  amazed  to  think  of 
the  rashness  of  our  actions  and  of  the  dangei*  encountered 
from  which  we  escaped.  Not  but  two  men  with  proper 
appliances,  and  with  ripe  experience,  might  with  perfect 
security  make  just  such  a  trip,  but  we  were  possessed  of 
neither  and  ran  the  great  risks  accordingly. 

It  was  a  calm,  beautiful  day  when  we  reached  Port  Towai- 
send,  after  a  three  hours'  run  from  our  camp  on  the  island. 
As  we  rounded  Marrowstone  Point,  near  four  miles  distant, 
the  new  village  came  into  view.  A  feeling  of  surprise  came 
over  us  from  the  supposed  magnitude  of  the  new  town. 
Distance  lends  enchantment,  the  old  adage  says,  but  in  this 
case  the  nearer  we  approached  the  embryo  city,  the  greater 
our  admiration.  The  beautiful,  pebbly  beach  in  front,  the 
clear,  level  spot  adjoining,  with  the  beautiful  open  and 
comparatively  level  plateau  in  the  background,  and  with 
two  or  three  vessels  at  anchor  in  the  foreground,  there 
seemed  nothing  lacking  to  complete  the  picture  of  a  perfect 
city  site.  The  contrast  was  so  great  between  the  ill-smelling 
lagoon  of  Seattle  or  the  dismal,  extensive  tide  flats  of 
8—1958 


98  A  Busy  Life 

Olympia,  that  our  spirits  rose  almost  to  a  feeling  of  exulta- 
tion, as  the  nose  of  our  little  craft  grounded  gently  on  tlie 
beach.  Poor,  innocent  souls,  we  could  not  see  beyond  to 
discover  that  cities  are  not  built  upon  ]ileasure  gi'ounds, 
and  that  there  are  causes  beyond  the  ken  of  man  to  fathom 
the  future  destiny  of  tlie  embryo  towns  of  a  new  common- 
wealth. 

We  found  here  the  enthusiastic  Plummer,  the  ])lodding 
Pettygrove  and  the  industrious,  enterprising  Hastings, 
jointly  intent  upon  liuihling  up  a  town,  "the  greatesit. 
shipping  port  on  the  coast,"  as  they  were  nearest  possible 
to  the  sea,  while  our  Olympia  friends  had  used  exactly  the 
opposite  arguments  favoring  their  locality,  as  "we  are  the 
farthest  possible  inland,  where  ships  can  come."  Small 
wonder  that  land-lubbers  as  we  were  sliould  l)ec'ome  eon- 
fused. 

Another  confusing  element  that  pressed  upon  our  minds 
was  the  vastness  of  the  waters  explored,  and  that  we  now 
came  to  know  were  yet  left  unexplored.  Then  Puget 
Sound  was  looked  upon  as  anchorage  ground  from  the 
Straits  on  the  north  to  Budd's  Tnlet  on  the  south,  for- 
getting, or  rather  not  knowing,  of  the  extreme  deptli  of 
waters  in  many  places.  Then  that  wonderful  stretch  of 
shore  line  of  sixteen  hundred  miles,  with  its  forty  or  more 
islands  of  from  a  few  acres  in  extent  to  thirty  miles  of 
length,  with  the  aggregate  area  of  waters  of  several  hun- 
dred square  miles,  exclusive  of  the  Straits  of  Fuca  and 
Gulf  of  Georgia.  All  these  marvels  gradually  dawned 
upon  our  minds  as  we  looked  and  counseled,  forgetting  for 
the  time  the  imminent  risks  we  were  taking. 

Upon  closer  examination  of  the  little  town,  we  found  our 
first  impression  from  the  distance  illusory.  Many  shacks 
and  camps,  at  first  mistaken  for  the  white  men's  houses, 
were  found  to  be  occupied  by  the  natives,  a  drunken, 
rascally  rabble,  spending  their  gains  from  the  sale  of  fish 
and  oil  in  a  debauch  that  would  last  as  long  as  their  money 
was  in  hand. 

This  seemed  to  be  a  more  stalwart  I'acc  of  Indians, 
stronger  and  more   athletic,   though   sti'ictlv  of  the   class 


Venthrks  and  Adventttres  99 

known  as  fish  Indians,  ])nt  better  developed  than  those  to 
the  sonth,  from  the  ])nf!;eting  received  in  llie  larger  waters 
of  the  Straits,  and  even  out  in  the  open  sea,  in  their  fishing 
excursions  witli  canoes,  manned  by  thirty  or  more  men. 

The  next  incident  of  tlie  trip  that  I  can  remember  is 
when  we  were  pulling  for  dear  life  to  make  a  landing  in 
front  of  Colonel  Ebey's  cabin,  on  Whidby's  Island,  op- 
posite Port  Townsend.  We  were  carried  by  the  rapid  cur- 
rent quite  a  way  past  the  landing,  in  spite  of  our  utmost 
efforts.  It  would  be  a  serious  thing  to  be  unable  to  land, 
as  we  were  now  in  the  open  waters,  with  a  fifteen-mile 
stretch  of  the  Straits  of  Fuca  before  us.  I  can  remember 
a  warm  greeting  at  the  hands  of  Ebey,  the  first  time  I 
iiad  ever  seen  him.  He  had  a  droll  stoppage  in  his  speech 
that  at  first  acquaintance  would  inclme  one  to  mirth,  but 
after  a  few  moments'  conversation  such  a  feeling  would 
disappear.  Of  all  the  men  we  had  met  on  the  whole  trip, 
Colonel  Ebey  made  the  most  lasting  impression.  Some- 
how, what  he  did  say  came  with  such  evident  sincerity 
and  sympathy,  and  with  such  an  unaffected  manner,  that 
we  were  drawn  close  to  him  at  once.  It  was  while  living 
in  these  same  cabins  where  Ave  visited  him,  that  four  years 
later  the  northern  Indians,  from  British  Columbia,  came 
and  murdered  him  and  carried  off  his  head  as  a  trophy  in 
their  savage  warfare. 

AVe  spent  two  or  three  days  in  exploring  the  island,  only 
to  find  all  the  prairie  land  occupied,  but  I  will  not  under- 
take from  memory  to  name  the  settlers  we  found  there. 
Prom  our  acquaintance,  and  from  published  reports.  I 
came  to  know  all  of  them,  but  do  not  now  recall  a  single 
individual  adult  alive  who  was  there  then;  a  striking  illus- 
tration of  having  outlived  the  most  of  my  generation. 

Somehow,  our  minds  went  back  to  the  seven  ships  we 
iiad  seen  at  anchoi'  in  front  of  Steilacoom ;  to  the  sound 
of  the  timber  camps;  to  the  bustle  and  stir  of  the  little 
new  village ;  to  the  greater  activitic^s  that  we  saw  there 
than  anywhere  else  on  the  waters  of  the  Sound,  and  like- 
wise my  thoughts  would  go  beyond  to  the  little  cabin  on 
the  Columbia  River,  and  the  little  wife  domiciled  there, 


100  A  Busy  Life 

and  the  other  little  personage,  mid  so  wlien  we  bade  Colonel 
Ebey  gpod-bye,  it  was  the  signal  to  make  our  way  as 
speedily  as.  possible  to  the  waters  of  the  seven  shi])s. 

Three  days  sufficed  to  land  us  back  in  the  coveted  bay 
with  no  greater  mishap  than  getting  off  our  course  into 
the  mouth  of  Hood's  Canal,  and  being  lost  another  half 
day,  but  luckily  going  on  the  right  course  the  while. 

But,  lo  and  behold,  the  ships  were  gone.  Not  a  sailing 
craft  of  any  kind  was  in  sight  of  the  little  town,  but  the 
l)uilding  activity  continued.  The  memory  of  those  ships, 
however,  remained  and  determined  our  minds  as  to  the 
important  question  where  the  trade  center  was  to  be,  and 
that  we  would  look  farther  for  the  coveted  spot  upon  which 
to  make  a  home. 

I  look  back  with  amazement  at  the  rash  undertaking  of 
that  trip,  so  illy  provided,  and  inexperienced,  as  we  were, 
and  wonder  that  we  escaped  with  no  more  serious  mishap 
than  we  had.  We  were  not  justified  in  taking  these  chances, 
or  at  least  I  was  not,  with  the  two  dependents  left  in  the 
cabin  on  the  liank  of  the  Cohnnbia  River,  but  we  did  not 
realize  the  danger  until  we  were  in  it,  and  hence  did  not 
share  in  the  suspense  and  uneasiness  of  that  one  left  behind. 
Upon  the  whole,  it  was  a  most  enjoyable  trip,  and  one, 
barring  the  risk  and  physical  inability  now  to  play  my 
part,  I  could  with  great  enjoynient  encounter  the  same 
adventure  of  which  I  have  only  related  a  mere  outline. 
Did  you  ever,  reader,  take  a  drive,  we  will  say  in  a  hired 
outfit,  with  a  paid  coachman,  and  then  take  the  lines  in 
your  own  hands  by  way  of  contrast?  If  so,  then  you  will 
realize  the  thrill  of  enjoyment  where  you  pull  your  own 
oars,  sail  your  own  craft,  cook  your  own  dinner,  and  lie 
in  your  own  bed  of  boughs,  and  go  when  and  where  you 
will  with  that  keen  I'elish  incident  to  the  independence  and 
uncertainties  of  such  a  trip.  It  was  a  wild,  reckless  act, 
but  we  came  out  stronger  than  ever  in  the  faith  of  the 
great  future  in  store  for  the  north  count  i-y,  where  we 
finally  made  our  home  and  where  T  have  lived  ever  since, 
now  over  sixty-four  yeai's. 


VrONTKRES    AND    ADVENTURES  101 

('iiapth:i{  XVII. 

EKOM     COLOMBIA     KIVKK    TO    TUGI'/l'    SOl'ND. 

"(-an  I  get  liome  tonight  ?"  I  asked  myself,  while  the 
sun  was  >'et  iiigh  one  afternoon  of  the  last  week  of  June 
(1853). 

I  was  well  up  river,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Cowl  it/.  I 
eould  not  tell  how  far,  for  there  were  no  milestones,  or 
way  places  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  crooked,  half 
obstructed  trail  leading  down  stream.  I  knew  that  at  the 
best  it  would  be  a  race  witli  the  sun,  for  tiiere  were  many 
miles  between  me  and  the  cabin,  but  the  days  were  long, 
and  the  twilight  longer,  and  1  would  camp  tliat  much 
nearer  home  if  I  made  haste.  My  pack  had  been  discarded 
on  the  Sound;  I  did  not  even  have  either  coat  or  blanket. 
The  heavy,  woolen  shirt,  often  worn  outside  the  pants, 
wil]  be  well  remembered  by  my  old-time  pioneer  readers. 
Added  to  this,  the  well  worn  slouch  hat,  and  woi'n  shoes, 
both  of  w^hich  gave  ample  ventilation,  completed  my  tlress; 
socks,  I  had  none,  neither  suspenders,  the  improvised  belt 
taking  their  place;  and  so  I  was  dressed  suitable  for  the 
race,  and  was  eager  for  the  trial. 

I  had  parted  with  my  brother  at  Olympia,  where  he  had 
come  to  set  me  that  far  on  my  journey ;  he  to  return  to 
the  claims  we  had  taken,  and  I  to  make  my  way  across 
countiy  for  the  wife  and  baby,  to  remove  them  to  our 
new  home.  I  did  not  particularly  mind  the  camping  so 
much  if  necessary,  but  did  not  fancy  the  idea  of  lying- 
out  so  near  home,  if  I  could  by  extra  exertion  reach  the 
cabin  that  night.  T  did  not  have  the  friendly  ox  to  snug 
up  to  for  warmth,  as  in  so  many  bivouacs  while  on  the 
plains,  but  1  had  matches,  and  there  were  many  mossy 
places  for  a  bed  and  friendly  shelter  of  the  droo])ing  cedars. 
We  never  thought  of  "catching  cold"  by  lying  on  the 
ground  or  on  cedar  boughs,  o)*  from  getting  a  good  dr(mch- 
ing.  Somehow  it  did  seem  I  was  free  from  all  cai-e  of 
bodily  ailment,   and   could  cudui-c  continued  exertion   for 


102  A  Busy  Life 

long  hours  without  the  k^ast  ineouvenience.  The  readers 
of  this  generation  doubtless  will  be  ready  to  pour  out 
their  syujpathy  for  the  hardships  of  the  lonely  trail,  and 
lone  camp,  and  the  supperless  bed  of  boughs,  but  they 
may  as  well  reserve  this  for  others  of  the  pioneers  whose 
systems  were  less  able  to  bear  the  unusual  strain  of  the  new 
conditions.  But  the  camp  had  to  be  inade ;  the  cabin  could 
not  be  reached,  for  the  trail  could  not  be  followed  at  night, 
nor  the  Kalama  Creek  crossed ;  so,  slackening  my  pace  at 
nightfall  to  gradually  cool  my  system,  I  finally  made  my 
camp  and  slept  as  sound  as  if  on  a  bed  of  down,  with  the 
consolation  that  the  night  was  short  and  that  I  could  see 
to  travel  by  3  o'clock,  and  it  did  not  make  so  very  much 
difference,  after  all. 

I  can  truly  say  that  of  all  those  years  of  camp  and 
cabin  life,  I  do  not  look  upon  them  as  years  of  hardship. 
To  be  sure,  our  food  was  plain  as  well  as  dress,  our  hours 
of  labor  long  and  labor  frequently  severe,  and  that  the 
pioneers  appeared  rough  and  uncouth,  yet  underlying  all 
this,  there  ran  a  vein  of  good  cheer,  of  hopefulness,  of 
the  intense  interest  always  engendered  with  strife  to  over- 
come difficulties  where  one  is  the  employer  as  well  as  the 
emi^loyed.  We  never  watched  for  the  sun  to  go  down,  or 
for  the  seven  o'clock  whistle,  or  for  the  boss  to  quicken 
our  steps,  for  the  days  were  always  too  short,  and  interest 
in  our  work  always  unabated. 

The  ca1)in  could  not  be  seen  for  a  long  distance  on  the 
trail,  but  I  thought  1  caught  sight  of  a  curl  of  smoke  and 
then  immediately  knew  I  did,  and  that  settled  it  that  all 
was  well  in  the  cal)in.  But  when  a  little  nearer,  a  little 
lady  in  almost  bloomer  dress  was  espied  milking  a  cow, 
and  a  frisking,  fat  calf  in  the  pen  was  seen,  then  I  knew, 
and  all  solicitude  vanished.  The  little  lady  never  finished 
milking  that  cow,  nor  did  she  ever  milk  others  when  the 
husband  was  at  home,  though  she  knew  how  w^ell  enough, 
and  never  felt  above  such  woi'k  if  a  necessity  arose,  but 
we  parceled  out  duti(^s  on  a  different  basis,  with  each  to 
their  suited   parts.     Tlie  bloom   on  tlie  cheek  of  the  little 


Vknttres  and  Advkntuhks  103 

wife,  the  l)al)y  in  tlio  Ccibiii  as  fat  as  the  call",  told  the  story 
of  good  liealtli  and  jileiititiide  of  food,  and  In-onglit  good 
cheer  witli  the  welcome  home.  The  dried  potato  eyes  had 
jnst  been  i)lanted.  althongh  it  was  then  the  first  week  of 
July,  following  the  receding  waters  of  the  June  freshet 
up  the  Columbia,  and  were  sprouting  vigorously.  \  may 
say,  in  passing,  there  came  a  crop  from  these  of  nearly 
four  hundred  bushels  at  harvest  time. 

It  did  seem  there  were  so  many  things  to  talk  about  that 
one  could  scarcely  tell  where  to  begin  or  when  to  stop. 
"Why,  at  Olympia,  eggs  were  a  dollar  a  dozen.  I  saw  them 
selling  at  that.  That  butter  you  have  there  on  the  shelf 
would  bring  a  dollar  a  pound  as  fast  as  you  could  weigh 
it  out ;  I  saw  stutf  they  called  butter  sell  for  that ;  then 
potatoes  were  selling  for  $3.00  a  bushel  and  onions  at  $4.00. 
Everything  the  farmer  raises  sells  high."  "Who  buys?" 
"Oh,  almost  everybody  has  to  buy;  there's  the  ships  and 
the  timber  camps,  and  the  hotels,  and  the—" 

"Where  do  they  get  the  money?" 

"Why,  eveiybod.y  seems  to  have  money.  Some  take  it 
there  with  them.  Then  men  working  in  the  timber  camps 
get  $4.00  a  day  and  their  board.  I  saw  one  place  where 
they  paid  $4.00  a  cord  for  wood  to  ship  to  San  Francisco, 
and  one  can  sell  all  the  shingles  he  can  make  at  $4.00  a 
thousand,  ajid  I  was  offered  5  cents  a  foot  for  piles.  If 
we  had  Buck  and  Dandy  over  there  we  could  make  twenty 
dollars  a  day  putting  in  piles." 

"Where  could  you  get  the  piles?" 

"Off  the  government  land,  of  course.  All  help  them- 
selves to  all  they  want.  Then  there  are  the  fish,  and  the 
clams,  and  the  oysters,  and — " 

"But  what  about  the  land  for  a  claim?" 

That  question  was  a  stumper.  The  little  wife  never  lost 
sight  of  that  bargain  made  before  we  were  married,  that 
we  were  going  to  be  farmers ;  and  here  now  I  found  my- 
self praising  a  country  T  could  not  say  much  for  its  agri- 
cultural qualities,  but  other  things  quite  foreign  to  that 
interest. 


104  A  Busy  Ltpe 

But  if  we  could  sell  produce  higher,  might  we  not  well 
lower  our  standard  of  an  ideal  farm?  The  claim  I  had 
taken  was  described  with  a  tinge  of  disapjiointment,  falling 
so  far  below  in  quality  of  what  we  had  hoped  to  acquire, 
but  still  adhering  to  the  resolution  to  be  farmers,  we  began 
the  preparations  for  removal  to  the  Sound. 

The  wife,  bal)y,  bedding,  ox  yoke,  and  log  chain  were 
sent  up  tlie  Cowlitz  in  a  canoe,  while  Buck  and  Dandy  and 
I  renewed  our  acquaintance  by  taking  to  the  trail  where 
we  had  our  parting  ])ivouac.  We  had  camped  together 
many  a  night  on  the  plains,  and  slept  together  literally, 
not  figuratively.  I  used  to  crowd  up  close  under  Buck's 
back  while  napping  on  watch,  for  the  double  purpose  of 
warmth  and  signal — warmth  while  at  rest,  signal  if  the 
ox  moved.  On  this  occasion  I  was  illy  i)repared  for  a  cool 
night  camp,  having  neither  blanket  nor  coat,  as  I  had 
expected  to  reach  "Hard-Bread's"  Hotel,  wliere  the  people 
in  the  canoe  would  stop  over  night.  But  I  could  not  make 
it  and  so  again  laid  on  the  trail  to  renew  the  journey  bright 
and  early  the  next  morning. 

Hard  Bread's  is  an  odd  name  for  a  hotel,  you  will  say; 
so  it  is,  but  the  name  grew  out  of  the  fact  that  Gardner, 
the  old  widower  that  kept  "bachelor's"  hall  at  the  mouth 
of  Toutle  River,  fed  his  customers  on  liard  tack  three  times 
a  day,  if  perchance  any  one  was  unfortunate  enough  to 
be  compelled  to  take  their  meals  at  his  place. 

I  found  the  little  wife  had  not  fared  any  better  than  I 
luid  on  the  trail,  and,  in  fact,  not  so  well,  for  the  floor  of 
the  cabin  was  a  great  deal  harder  than  the  sand  spit  where 
I  had  passed  the  night,  with  plenty  of  pure,  fresh  air, 
while  she,  in  a  closed  cabin,  in  the  same  room  with  many 
others,  could  neither  boast  of  fresh  air  nor  freedom  from 
creeping  things  that  make  life  miserable.  With  her  shoes 
for  a  pillow,  a  shawl  for  covering,  small  wonder  the  report 
came  "T  did  not  sleep  a  wink  last  night." 

Judge  Olney  and  wife  were  passengers  in  the  same  canoe 
and  guests  at  the  same  house  with  tlie  wife,  as  also  Prank 
Clark,  who  afterwards  played  a  prominent   part  at  the  bar. 


Vknthrks  and  Adventures  105 

and  in  tlie  political  affairs  ol'  Pierce  (Joniily  in  pai-ticular, 
and  ineidentall}^  of  the  wliole  Territory. 

We  soon  arrived  at  the  Cowlitz  landing,  and  at  the  end 
of  the  canoe  journey,  so,  striking  the  tent  that  had  served 
us  so  well  on  the  plains,  and  with  a  cheerful  camp  fire 
blazing  for  cooking,  speedily  forgot  the  experience  of  the 
trail,  the  cramped  passage  in  the  canoe,  the  hard  bread, 
dirt  and  all,  while  enjoying  the  savory  meal,  the  like  of 
which  only  the  expert  hands  of  the  ladies  of  the  plains 
could  prepare. 

But  now  we  had  fifty  miles  of  land  to  travel  before  us, 
and  over  such  a  road !  Words  cannot  describe  that  road, 
and  so  I  will  not  try.  One  must  have  traveled  it  to  fully 
comprehend  what  it  meant.  However,  we  had  one  con- 
solation, and  that  was  it  would  be  worse  in  winter  than 
at  that  time.  We  had  no  wagon.  Our  wagon  had  been 
left  at  The  Dalles,  and  we  never  saw  nor  heard  of  it  again. 
Our  cows  were  gone — given  for  provender  to  save  the  lives 
of  the  oxen  during  the  deep  December  snow,  and  so  when 
we  took  account  of  stock,  we  had  Buck  and  Dandy,  the 
baby,  and  a  tent,  an  ox  yoke  and  chain,  enough  clothing 
and  bedding  to  keep  us  comfortable,  with  but  very  little 
food  and  no  money — that  had  all  been  expended  on  the 
canoe  passage. 

Shall  we  pack  the  oxen  and  walk,  and  carry  baby,  or 
shall  we  build  a  sled  and  drag  our  things  over  to  the  Sound, 
or  shall  I  make  an  effort  to  get  a  wagon  ?  This  latter  prop- 
osition was  the  most  attractive,  and  so  next  morning,  driv- 
ing Buck  and  Dandy  before  me,  leaving  the  wife  and  baby 
to  take  care  of  the  camp,  the  search  for  a  wagon  began. 

That  great  hearted  old  pioneer,  John  R.  Jackson,  did  not 
hesitate  a  moment,  stranger  as  I  was,  to  say,  "Yes,  you 
can  have  two  if  you  need  them."  Jackson  had  settled  eight 
years  before,  ten  miles  out  from  the  landing,  and  had  an 
abundance  around  him,  and  like  all  those  earlier  pioneers, 
took  a  pride  in  helping  others  who  came  later.  Retracing 
the  road,  night  found  me  again  in  camp,  and  all  hands 
happy,   but  Jackson  would   not  listen  to  allowing  us  to 


106  A  Busy  Lifi: 

proeeed  tlie  next  day  any  farther  than  his  premises,  where 
he  would  entertain  ns  in  liis  eonifortable  cabin,  and  send 
us  on  our  way  the  niorniny  t'oUowing,  rejoicing-  in  pU'iily. 

Without  special  incident  or  accident,  we  in  due  time 
arrived  at  Ihe  foot  of  tlu^  falls  of  the  Deschutes  (Tmn- 
walei'),  and  on  the  shore  of  Puget  Sound.  Here  a  camp 
must  be  established  again;  the  little  wife  and  baby  left 
while  1  drove  the  wagon  over  the  tedious  road  to  Jackson's 
and  then  returned  with  the  ox(ni  to  tide  water. 

The  reader  may  well  imagine  my  feelings,  when,  upon 
my  return,  my  tent,  \\ife,  baby,  and  all  were  gone.  We 
knew  before  I  started  on  my  return  trip  that  smallpox 
was  I'aging  among  the  Indians,  and  that  a  camp  where  this 
disease  was  prevalent  was  in  sight  less  than  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  away.  The  present-day  i-eader  must  remember  that 
dread  disease  had  terrors  then  that,  since  universal  vac- 
cination, it  does  not  now  i)0ssess.  Could  it  be  possible  my 
folks  had  been  sick  and  had  Ixcn  reniovetl ;  The  question, 
however,  was  soon  solved.  I  had  scarcely  gotten  out  of 
sight  upon  my  trip  before  one  of  those  royal  pioneei' 
matrons  came  to  the  camp  and  pleaded  and  insisted  and 
finally  almost  frightened  the  little  wife  to  go  and  share 
her  house  with  her  which  was  near  by,  and  be  out  of  danger 
from  the  smallpox. 

And  that  was  the  way  we  traveled  from  th(^  Columbia 
River  to  Puget  Sound. 

God  bless  those  earlier  pioneers;  they  were  all  good  to 
us,  sometimes  to  the  point  of  end)arrassment  by  their  gen- 
erous hospitality. 

I  can  not  disuuss  this  subject  without  I'eveiting  to  one 
such,  in  particular,  who  gave  his  whole  croj)  during  the 
winter  of  which  I  have  just  written,  to  start  immigrants 
on  the  road  to  ])rospei'ity,  and,  in  some  instances,  to  pre- 
vent suffering. 

In  conse(|uence  of  the  large  immigration  and  increascul 
denumd,  pi'ices  of  provisions  had  run  sky  high,  and  out  of 
reach  of  some  of  the  recent  immigrants  with  large  families. 
Ceorge  Bush   had  S(|uatted   on   a   chiim   seven  miles  south 


Ventures  and  Adventurer  107 

of  01.ympia.  in  1845,  and  liad  an  ahiiiidaiu'e  of  farm  prod- 
uce, but  would  not  sell  a  pound  of  anything  to  a  speculator; 
but  to  immigrants,  for  seed  or  for  immediate  pressing 
wants,  to  all  alike,  without  money  and  without  price — 
"return  it  when  you  can,"  he  would  say — and  so  divided 
up  his  whole  crop,  then  worth  thousands  of  dollars.  And 
3^et  this  man's  oath  could  not  at  that  time  be  taken;  neither 
could  he  sue  in  the  courts  or  acquire  title  to  the  land  upon 
which  he  lived,  or  any  land.  He  had  negro  blood  in  his 
veins,  and  under  the  law  of  this  great  country,  then,  was  a 
proscribed  outcast.  (Conditions  do  change  as  time  passes. 
The  wrong  was  so  flagrant  in  this  particular  case  that  a 
special  act  of  Congress  enabled  this  old,  big-hearted  pioneer 
of  1845  to  hold  his  claim,  and  his  descendants  are  living 
on  it  yet. 

I  have  been  so  impressed  with  the  altruistic  character  of 
this  truly  great  man  that  I  have  procured  this  testimonial 
from  a  close  acquaintance  and  neighbor.  Prof.  Ayres,  who 
has  kindly  written  tlie  history  of  the  life  of  this  truly 
great  pioneer.  i 

A    GREAT    PIONEER — GEORGE    BUSH,    THE    VOYAGER. 

The  history  of  the  Northwest  settlement  cannot  be  fully 
written  without  an  account  of  George  Bush,  who  organized 
and  led  the  first  colony  of  American  settlers  to  the  shores 
of  Puget  Sound,  whose  great  humanity,  shrewd  intelli- 
gence, and  knowledge  of  the  natives,  who  then  numbered 
thousands  about  the  headwaters  of  the  Sound,  had  much 
to  do  with  carrying  the  first  settlers  safely  through  all  of 
the  curses  of  famine  and  war  while  the  feeble  colony  was 
slowly  gaining  enough  strength  to  protect  itself. 

Mr.  Bush  claimed  to  have  been  born  about  1791  in  what 
is  now  ^Missouri,  but  was  then  the  French  Colony  of 
Louisiana,  and  in  the  extreme  Far  West,  and  only  reached 
by  the  most  daring  hunters.  His  early  manhood  was 
spent  in  the  employ  of  the  great  trading  companies  who 
reached   out   into   the   Rock   ^Mountains   each   season   and 


108  A  Busy  Life 

jj:atlie.i'(Hl  I'urs  from  tlie  Indians  and  tlu>  occasional  white 
tra])|)eis. 

Bush  first  began  this  work  ( ?)  with  Rabidean,  the 
l^'^renchnian,  wlio  made  his  head<iuai'ters  at  St.  Louis,  but 
hiter  on  enlisted  witli  tlie  Hudson 's  Bay  (Company,  which 
had  been  given  unrestrained  dominion  over  all  Canada 
outside  of  the  settlements  in  the  East,  and,  not  satisfied 
with  that,  sent  its  trading  parties  down  across  the  national 
line,  where  it  was  safe  to  do  so.  It  was  during  this  emiiloy- 
ment  with  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  that  Bush  reached 
the  Pacific  Coast  in  the  late  twenties,  and  while  he  did  not 
get  as  far  sonth  as  Puget  Sound  (then  occupied  by  the 
company  and  claimed  as  a  part  of  the  British  Dominion), 
he  learned  of  its  favorable  climate,  soil  and  fitness  for 
settlement. 

He  then  retnrned  to  Missouri  about  1830,  settled  in 
(Hay  County,  married  a  German- American  woman  and 
raised  a  family  of  boys. 

In  1843,  Marcus  AVhitraan  made  his  famous  trip  from 
Oregon  to  the  national  capital  and  excited  the  whole  coun- 
try by  his  stories  of  the  great  possible  future  of  the  ex- 
treme Northwest  and  the  duty  of  the  Government  to  insist 
upon  its  claim  to  dominion  over  the  western  coast  from 
the  Mexican  settlement  in  California  up  to  the  Russian 
possessions  in  the  far  north. 

Everything  got  into  politics  then,  even  more  than  now, 
and  the  Democratic  party,  which  until  then  had  been  the 
most  aggressive  in  extending  the  national  bounds,  took  up 
the  cry  of  "Fifty-four  Forty  or  Fight",  to  win  what  they 
knew  would  be  a  close  contest  for  President  in  1844. 

This  meant  the  taking  possession  of  the  whole  thousand 
miles  or  more  of  coast  by  settlement  and  di'iving  the 
English  out  by  threats  or  force. 

As  I  have  indicated  before,  the  i)eople  of  St.  Louis  and 
Missouri  had  becoiiie  deeply  interested  in  the  extreme  west 
thi'ougli  their  ti-ading  interests,  and  as  the  retired  vo^'^ager 
was  one  of  the  very  few  who  knew  about  the  western 
coast  and   had   sufficient  fitness  for  leadership  he  was  en- 


VENTnRp:s  AND  Advkntures  109 

eoni'figed  by  his  friends  to  make  up  a  party  and  ci-oss  the 
plains  to  the  new  Oregon. 

This  was  in  the  winter  of  1843-4  and  early  in  the  spring, 
lie,  with  four  other  families  and  three  single  men,  set  out 
with  a  large  outfit  of  wagons  and  live  stock  over  what  is 
now  known  as  the  "Old  Oregon  Trail." 

The  names  of  this  company  were  as  follows : 

George  Bush,  his  wife  and  sons  (Wm.  Owen,  Joseph,  R. 
B.,  Sanford — now  living — and  Jackson)  ; 

Col.  M.  T.  Simmons,  wife  and  seven  children; 

David  Kindred,  wife  and  one  son : 

Gabriel  Jones,  wife  and  three  children ; 

Wm.  McAllister,  wife  and  several  children,  and  the  three 
young  bachelors.  Samuel  Crockett,  Reuben  Crowder,  and 
Jesse  Ferguson. 

Of  these  families,  the  Jones  and  Kindreds  are  now  ex- 
tinct, and  of  the  original  party  only  two  sons  of  Col.  Sim- 
mons and  Sanford  Bush  are  now  living.  Semis  Bush,  the 
youngest  son  of  George  Bush,  was  born  after  their  arrival, 
in  1847.  on  Bush  Prairie  and,  by  the  way,  is  perhaps  the 
oldest  living  \^li^  American  born  in  the  Puget  Sound 
basin.  " 

The  Bush  party  suffered  the  usual  hardships  of  the  over- 
land journey  but  met  no  great  disaster,  and  reached  The 
Dalles  late  in  the  fall  of  1844.  There  they  camped  for  the 
winter  and  decided  their  future  plans. 

At  that  time  the  headquarters  of  the  Huson's  Bay  Com- 
pany, the  sole  official  representative  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment, was  on  the  Columbia  River  with  its  chief  settlements 
at  Vancouver  and  The  Dalles. 

It  was  the  policy  of  the  company  to  prevent  all  settle- 
ment north  of  the  Columbia  River  and  confine  its  use  to 
the  fur-bearing  industry  and  depend  upon  the  Indians  for 
the  necessary  hunting  and  trapping.  The  employes  of 
the  company  consisted  of  the  necessai-y  factors  and  clerks, 
some  English,  but  more  Scotch,  while  the  rest,  boatmen, 
etc.,  were  nearly  all  Canadian  French. 

The    great    chief   factor    for   the    whole   west    was    Dr. 


110  A  Busy  Life 

i\li-Loughliii,  a  benevolent  lU'spot,  well  tilted  to  govern  liis 
savage  doniiniou  so  long  as  the  Yankees  kept  away,  but 
at  the  period  in  question  he  found  himself  in  a  painful 
conflict  between  the  interests  of  iiumanity  and  the  demands 
of  his  superiors. 

The  governing  board  in  jjoiidoii  was  composed  of  mem- 
bers of  the  government  and  aristocracy  who  were  extremely 
resentful  of  the  demands  and  claims  of  the  American  poli- 
ticians and  gave  most  imperative  orders  to  Governor  Mc- 
Loughlin  and  the  other  factors  and  agents  on  the  Coast 
to  discourage  all  settlement  by  the  Americans  north  of 
the  Columbia  River  and  to  furnish  no  supplies  or  other 
assistance  to  the  American  travelers  or  settlers.  This  pro- 
hibition also  extended,  though  less  rigidly,  to  the  Oregon 
settlements  south  of  the  Columbia,  for  the  company  saw 
clearly  that  unless  the  emigration  could  be  checked  tlie 
vast  profits  of  their  fast  growing  trade  in  the  west  would 
soon  be  lost. 

Sanford  Bush,  though  a  small  boy  at  the  time,  remembers 
the  trip  well,  and  tells  me  that  the  main  dependence  of 
his  father's  partv'  and  the  other  early  settlers  was  the 
friendliness  of  the  French  Canadians,  who  had  much  more 
sympathy  for  the  poor  settlers  than  with  the  English  stock- 
holders, and  did  not  hesitate  to  smuggle  all  sorts  of  sup- 
plies, especially  of  food,  from  their  farms  into  the  hands 
of  the  Americans,  and  it  was  in  this  emergency  that  the 
former  experience  and  intimate  acquaintance  of  George 
Bush  with  the  French  and  their  desire  to  assist  him  turned 
his  attention  to  the  Puget  Sound  country  and  made  it 
possible  for  him  to  smuggle  his  party  up  into  territory 
that  was  yet  claimed  by  the  British,  without  its  becoming 
officially  known  to  the  chief  factor.  At  that  time  the  road 
from  the  Columbia  River,  or  rather  from  the  landing  on 
the  Cowlitz  River,  to  the  head  of  the  Sound  was  only  a 
single  trail  through  dense  forests,  and  that  was  always 
more  or  less  blocked  by  falling  timber.  No  vehicle  could 
get  tlirongh  and,  while  Saiifoi'd  says  that  the  parly  did 
get  some  of  the  twenty  wagons  with  which  they  left  Mis- 


Ji^EKTriRES    AND    AoVENTURER  111 

souri  through  to  'J'he  Dalles,  they  onlj^  reached  the  Soiiiul 
with  what  they  could  pack  on  their  animals  or  drag  oi) 
rude  sleds. 

In  this  condition  the  little  party  reached  the  extreme 
head  of  the  Sound  at  Tumwater  early  in  the  spring  of 
1845  and  proceeded  to  take  possession  of  such  tracts  of 
land  as  took  their  fancy,  covering  what  is  now  the  town 
of  Tumwater  and  back  along  the  west  side  of  the  littl*^ 
Des  Chutes  River,  and  out  on  the  prairie,  which  begins 
about  a  mile  south  of  the  landing  and  extends  down  about 
three  miles  to  a  rise  of  ground  not  far  from  the  river. 
Upon  this  commanding  site  George  Bush  pitched  his  last 
camp  and  there  his  family  descendants  have  lived  to  the 
l^resent  time,  and  the  prairie  of  some  five  square  miles 
extent  has  always  been  known  as  Bush  Prairie. 

Mr.  Bush  was  a  farmer,  and  having  brought  as  much 
live  stock  as  possible  he  at  once  broke  up  some  of  the  best 
of  the  open  prairie.  He  was  so  successful  that  in  a  very 
few  years  his  farm  was  the  main  resource  for  grain,  vege- 
tables and  fruit  for  supi)lying  the  newcomers  in  that 
region. 

Let  me  say  in  passing  that  his  memory  is  honored  to  this 
day  among  the  early  families  for  the  fact  that  while  he 
was  at  times  the  only  man  in  the  country  with  food  for 
sale  he  would  never  take  advantage  by  raising  the  price 
nor  allow  anyone  to  luiy  more  than  his  own  needs  during 
an  emergency. 

In  1845  there  were  no  mills  on  the  Sound  for  grinding 
grain  nor  sawing  lumber  and  as  quick  as  the  necessary 
outfit  could  be  secured,  which  was  about  three  years  later, 
all  of  the  Bush  party,  with  Mr.  Simmons  as  manager, 
joined  in  constructing  a  combined  saw  and  grist  mill  at 
the  foot  of  the  lower  Tumwater  Fall,  and  where  the  small 
streams  and  rafts  of  timber  could  reach  it  at  high  tide. 

For  the  grist  mill,  the  main  question  was  a  pair  of  grind- 
ing stones  and  these  were  secured  from  a  granite  boulder 
on  the  shore  of  Mud  Bay,  the  western  branch  of  Budd's 
Inlet,   at  the  head   of  which   Tumwater   and    (two   miles 


112  A  Busy  Life 

north)  Olympia  arc  situated.  A  man  named  Hamm,  a 
stonecutter  by  trade,  worked  out  and  dressed  the  stones 
for  use.  I  have  tried  to  find  these  l)ut  am  told  that  one 
was  allowed  to  sink  into  the.  mud  near  the  old  mill  site, 
while  the  other  was  taken  out  to  the  Bush  farm,  hut  it 
cracked  to  pieces  many  years  ago  and  is  now  all  gone. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  add  that  in  the  late  seventies 
a  man  by  the  name  of  Horton  originated  the  patent  wood 
pipe  industry  in  a  mill  on  the  site  of  the  first  mill. 

In  the  same  year  of  the  first  mill,  in  1848,  was  loadetl 
the  first  cargo  of  freight  for  export  from  the  Upper  Sound. 
This  was  on  the  brig  Orbit,  which  had  just  come  from  the 
east  around  the  Horn,  and  for  this  also  Bush  and  his  party 
made  up  a  cargo  of  piles  and  hand-sawed  shingles,  etc. 
The  vessel  had  brought  quite  a  quantity  of  supplies  and 
these  made  the  first  respectable  stock  of  goods  for  the 
little  store  which  the  party  had  started  in  connection  Avith 
the  mill. 

THE  PANNING   MILL. 

The  Bush  family  still  possess  and  use  an  interesting 
relic  of  that  first  vessel.  The  Orbit  brought  out  from  the 
east  two  families  named  Rider  and  Moulton,  and  in  their 
outfit  were  two  fanning  mills.  So  far  as  known,  these 
were  the  first  ever  brought  to  the  Sound  and  were  cer- 
tainl}^  the  first  outside  of  Nisqually,  the  Hudson  Bay  sta- 
tion for  the  Sound. 

As  Bush  was  the  greatest  grain  raiser  and  the  new  grist 
mill  could  not  well  get  along  without  it,  Mr.  Bush  secured 
one  of  these  fanning  mills  and  for  some  time  all  of  the 
settlers  who  attem]ited  to  raise  grain  were  permitted  to 
use  it. 

It  is  singular  that  this  old  hand  mill,  which  was  such 
an  important  and  hard  worked  factor  in  the  first  settle- 
ment, should,  sixty-five  years  later,  still  be  as  efficient  as 
ever  and  still  be  a  necessity  for  the  grandchildren  of  the 
old  pioneer. 

The  other  mill   was  secured  by  John  R.  Jackson,   who 


Ventures  and  Adventures  113 

was  the  first  American  settler  on  Cowlitz  Prairie,  and  was 
also  a  former  employe  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 

As  1  hfive  said  before,  George  Bush  was  not  only  remark- 
able, for  his  time,  in  the  virtues  of  humanity,  symi)athy 
and  wise  justice,  which  virtues  have  been  well  kept  by  his 
descendants,  but  he  had  a  rare  power  over  the  natives  and, 
while  the  different  tribes  often  fought  out  their  quarrels 
in  the  neighborhood,  none  of  the  Bush  family  was  ever 
molested  so  long  as  they  kept  west  of  the  Des  Chutes  River. 
Sanford  tells  of  one  occasion  when  two  tribes,  numbering 
many  hundreds,  fought  all  day  on  the  Bush  farm  but  both 
sides  promised  not  to  injure  the  whites. 

As,  however,  the  natives  had  only  a  few  very  poor  guns 
and  little  ammunition,  only  a  few  were  hurt  and  the  battle 
consisted  mostly  of  yells  and  insults. 

I  asked  Sanford  and  Lewis  about  Chief  Lesehi.  They 
say  he  often  came  to  their  place  up  to  the  time  of  the  war, 
and  as  his  mother  belonged  to  the  more  fierce  Klickitats 
of  the  trans-mountain  tribes,  so  Lesehi  was  more  of  a 
positive  and  aggi'essive  character  than  his  clam-digging 
brothers,  but  was  always  friendly  and  respectful  to  those 
who  treated  him  fairly. 

THE   FIRST    COUGAR. 

It  was  during  one  of  Lesehi 's  visits  to  their  place,  about 
1850,  that  one  of  the  ponies  was  killed  by  some  wild  animal 
The  same  thing  had  happened  several  times  aljout  the  Cow- 
litz but  none  of  the  Indians  nor  any  of  the  French  trap- 
pers had,  up  to  that  time,  ever  seen  any  around  that  was 
capable  of  the  mischief.  Mr.  Bush  set  a  large  bear  trap 
that  he  had  brought  from  ]\Tissouri  near  the  remains  of 
the  ponj^  and  was  fortunate  enough  to  capture  what  j^roved 
to  be  a  remarkably  long  bodied  and  long  tailed  cougar, 
the  first,  so  far  as  the  Bush  brothers  could  learn,  that  had 
ever  been  seen  on  the  Sound.  In  honor  of  the  event,  Lesehi 
was  allowed  to  take  charge  of  removing  and  preparing  the 
skin  of  the  new  kind  of  game. 

Asked  about  the   cause  of  the   Indian  war  which  was 
9—1958 


IH  A  Busy  Lifk 

started  by  Leschi  on  the  ground  that  his  people  had  been 
deceived  and  i-ol)l)ed  in  the  outlining  of  their  reservation 
on  the  Nisqually,  Sanford  and  ]jewis  assert  ])ositively  that 
all  of  the  whites  of  the  Tuimvater  and  Busli  Prairie  sec- 
tion were  agreed  that  the  Indians  were  badly  wronged  and 
there  was  much  sympathy  with  the  Lesehi  party. 

When  the  war  opened,  Lesehi  sent  word  to  Bush  promis- 
ing that  none  of  the  whites  on  the  west  side  of  the  Des 
Chutes  would  be  molested  and  this  proved  to  be  true, 
though  all  of  the  natives  were  in  a  restless  condition  over 
the  trouble  for  many  uionths. 

The  most  critical  experience  that  the  Bush  company  had 
with  the  Indians  was  a  few  years  before,  in  ^lay,  1849, 
when  Pat  Kamm,  chief  of  the  Snoqualmies,  landed  nearby 
on  the  bay  (Budd  Inlet)  with  a  great  fleet  of  war  canoes, 
and  made  it  known  that  they  were  going  to  destroy  all 
of  the  whites.  In  this  emergency,  a  squad  went  down  and 
told  them  that  Chief  Bush  had  a  terrible  great  gun  that 
would  sink  all  of  the  canoes  as  soon  as  they  should  come 
around  what  is  now  known  as  Capitol  Point.  This  alarmed 
the  natives  so  much  that  they  finally  gave  up  their  i)ui'- 
pose  and  returned  do^\^l  Sound.  It  is  to  be  added  that 
the  "terrible  gun"  Avas  a  very  heavy  rifle  that  l^ush  liad 
brought  from  the  East  and  which  kicked  so  badly  thai 
nobody  dared  fire  it  twice. 

Mr.  Bush  carried  on  his  farm  with  great  success  and 
kept  the  high  respect  and  good  will  of  all  the  settlement 
until  his  death  in  1867  at  the  age  of  7(5.  Ilis  eldest  son, 
William  Owen,  who  succeeded  his  father  as  the  recognized 
head  of  the  family,  was  born  in  1832  and  was  twelve  years 
old  when  he  crossed  the  plains.  He  had  the  same  gentle 
virtues  of  ids  father  and  w'as  always  consulted  in  the 
affairs  and  ])olitics  of  Thurston  County.  During  the  first 
state  legislature  of  '89-90,  he  was  an  active  and  influential 
memb(n".  While  he  carried  on  both  a  logging  and  farnnng 
business,  he  was  also  greatly  interested  in  tiie  world  fairs, 
and  at  Phila(lel])hia,  Chicago  and  St.  Louis  took  sevei'al 
notable  jn-i/es  for  his  remarkable  exhibits  of  Puget  Sound 


Ventures  ani>  Adventuues  115 

prodiietioiis,  all  raised  on  his  own  farm.  At  the  Centeiniial 
Fair,  in  1876,  he  took  the  world's  prize  for  wheat;  and 
from  the  Chicago  Fair  he  brought  back  over  two  hundred 
kinds  of  grain,  which  he  raised  in  separate  rows  in  one 
field. 

Wm.  Owen  died  in  1906  and  his  ])rother  Sanford,  M'ith 
two  sons  of  Col.  Simmons  were  all  that  are  left  of  the  first 
American  colonv  of  Puget  Sound. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   SECOND    CABIN. 

What  1  am  now  about  tp  write  may  provoke  a  smile,  but 
I  can  only  say,  reader,  put  yourself  in  my  place.  That 
there  should  be  a  feeling  akin  to  affection  between  a  man 
and  an  ox  will  seem  past  comprehension  to  many.  The 
time  had  come  that  Buck  and  Dandy  and  I  must  part  for 
good  and  all.  I  could  not  transport  them  to  our  island  home, 
neither  provide  for  them.  These  patient,  dumb  brutes  had 
been  my  close  companions  for  the  long,  weary  months  on 
the  plains,  and  had  never  failed  me ;  they  would  do  my 
bidding  to  the  letter.  I  often  said  Buck  understood  English 
better  than  some  people  I  had  seen  in  my  lifetime.  I  had 
done  what  not  one  in  a  hundred  did ;  that  was,  tO'  start  on 
that  trip  with  an  unbroken  ox  and  cow  team.  I  had 
selected  these  four-year-old  steers  for  their  intelligent  eyes 
as  well  as  for  their  trim  build,  and  had  made  no  mistake. 
AVe  had  bivouacked  together;  actually  slept  togetlier. 
lunched  together.  They  knew  me  as  far  as  they  could 
see,  and  seemed  delighted  to  obey  my  word,  and  I  did 
regret  to  feel  constrained  to  part  with  them.  I  knew  they 
had  assured  my  safe  transit  on  the  weary  journey,  if  not 
even  to  the  point  of  having  saved  my  life.  I  could  pack 
them,  ride  them,  drive  them  by  the  word  and  receive  tlieir 
salutations,  and  why  should  I  be  ashamed  to  part  with 
feelings  of  more  than  regret. 


IK)  A  Busy  Life 

l>ut  I  li;id  scant  time  to  spend  on  sentiment.  The 
brother  did  not  cxpccl  my  I'otnrn  so  soon.  The  island 
claim  (and  cabin,  as  1  thought)  must  be  reached  :  the  little 
skiff  obtained  in  wliich  to  ti-ansport  the  ■\^^fe  and  baby,  not 
yet  feeling  willing-  to  trnst  them  in  a  canoe. 

So,  A\'ithout  further  ado,  a,  small  canoe  was  chartered, 
and  my  first  experience  to  "paddle  my  o^Aai  canoe"  ma- 
terialized. It  seemed  this  same  place  where  we  had  our 
first  clam  bake  was  the  sticking  point  again.  The  tide 
turned,  night  overtook  me,  and  I  could  go  no  farther. 
Two  men  M^ere  in  a  cabin,  the  Doctor  Johnson  heretofore 
mentioned  and  a  man  by  the  name  of  Hathaway,  hoth 
drunk  and  drinking,  with  a  jug  handy  by,  far  from  empty. 
Both  were  men  that  seemed  to  me  to  l3e  well  educated,  and, 
if  sober,  refined.  They  quoted  from  Burns,  sang  songs 
and  ditties,  laughed  and  danced  until  late  in  the  night, 
when  they  became  exhausted  and  fell  asleep.  They  would 
not  listen  to  my  suggestion  that  I  would  camp  and  sleep 
outside  the  cabin,  and  I  could  not  sleep  inside,  so  the  night 
passed  off  without  rest  or  sleep  until  the  tide  turned,  and 
I  was  glad  enough  to  slip  away,  leaving  them  in  their 
stupor. 

A  few  miles  vigorous  paddling  brought  me  to  McNeil 
Island,  opposite  the  to^vn  of  Steilacoom,  where  I  expected 
to  find  our  second  cabin,  my  brother  and  the  boat.  No 
cabin,  no  brother,  no  boat,  were  to  be  seen.  A  raft  of 
cabin  logs  floating  in  the  lagoon  near  by,  where  the  United 
States  penitentiary  now  stands,  was  all  the  signs  to  be 
seen,  other  than  what  was  there  when  I  left  the  place  for 
ray  return  trip  to  the  Columbia  River.  I  was  soi*ely 
l)uzzled  as  to  what  to  do.  My  brother  was  to  have  had 
the  cabin  ready  by  the  time  I  returned.  He  not  only  had 
not  done  that,  but  had  taken  the  boat,  and  left  no  sign  as 
to  where  it  or  he  could  b(^  found.  Not  knowing  what  else 
to  do  I  mechanically  paddled  over  to  the  town,  where,  sure 
enough,  the  boat  was  anchoi-(Hl,  but  nobody  knew  where 
the  man  had  gone.  I  finally  found  w^here  the  provisions 
bad  been  left,  and,  aftei'  an  earnest  parley,  succeeded  in 


Vkntures  and  Advkntukks  117 

^i'ettiiiii'  possession.  I  took  my  canoe  in  tow  and  soon  made 
my  way  back  to  where  the  little  folks  were,  and  speedily 
transfeiTed  the  whole  ontfit  to  the  spot  that  was  to  be  onr 
island  home;  set  np  our  tent,  and  felt  at  home  once  more. 

The  village,  three  miles  away,  across  the  bay,  had  grown 
during  my  absence  and  in  the  distance  looked  like  a  city 
in  fact  as  well  as  in  name.  The  mountain  looked  bigger 
and  taller  than  ever.  Even  the  songs  of  the  Indians 
sounded  better,  and  tlie  canoes  seemed  more  graceful,  and 
the  paddles  wielded  more  expertly.  Everything  looked 
cheerful,  even  to  the  spouting  clams  on  the  lieach,  and 
the  crow's  antics  of  breaking  clains  by  rising  in  the  air 
and  dropping  them  on  the  boulders.  So  many  new  things 
to  show  the  folks  that  I  for  a  time  almost  forget  we  were 
out  of  provisions  and  money,  and  did  not  know  what 
had  happened  to  the  brother.  Thoughts  of  these  suddenly 
coming  upon  us,  our  spirits  fell,  and  for  a  time  we  coidd 
hardly  say  we  were  perfectly  happy. 

"T  believe  that  canoe  is  coming  straight  here,"  said  the 
little  wife,  the  next  morning,  about  nine  o'clock.  All  else 
is  dropped,  and  a  watch  set  upon  the  strange  craft,  moving 
slowly,  apparently  in  the  long  distance,  but  more  rapidly 
as  it  approached,  and  there  sat  the  brother.  Having  re- 
turned to  the  village  and  finding  that  the  boat  and  pro- 
visions had  been  taken,  and  seeing  smoke  in  the  bight,  he 
knew  what  had  happened,  and,  following  his  own  good 
impulse,  we  were  soon  together  again,  and  supremely 
happy.  He  had  received  a  tempting  offer  to  help  load  a 
ship,  and  had  just  completed  his  contract,  and  was  able 
to  exhibit  a  "slug"*  of  money  and  more  besides  that  looked 
precious  in  our  eyes. 

The  building  of  the  cabin,  with  its  stone  fireplace,  cat- 

*A  "slug"  was  fifty  dollars  value  in  gold,  minted  by  private  parties,  in  octagon  form 
and  passed  current  the  same  as  if  it  had  borne  the  government's  stamp.  "Slugs"  were 
worth  as  much  melted  as  in  the  coined  form.  My  ideas  about  the  gold  standard  were 
formed  at  that  time,  and  I  may  say  my  mind  never  changed  on  this  subject. 

The  "Beaver  Money,"  so  called  because  of  the  stamp  of  a  beaver  on  the  piece,  issued 
.by  the  pioneers  of  Ores;on,  of  the  value  of  $.5.00,  was  another  instance  of  no  change  in  value 
of  gold  from  the  melting  pot  to  the  mold.  It  was  simply  a  matter  of  convenience  to  be 
rid  of  the  more  cumbensome  legal  tender,  wheat,  which  had  been  in  vogue  so  long. 


118  A  Busy   LiFK 

and-clay  ohiimiey.  its  Iniiiber  fioor,  real  window  witli  glass 
in,  together  with  the  high  post  bedstead  ont  of  tapering 
cedai'  saplings,  the  table  fastened  to  the  wall,  with  nistic 
chairs,  seemed  but  like  a  play  spell.  No  eight  hour  a.  day 
work  there — eighteen  would  be  nearer  the  mark — we  never 
tiretl. 

There  came  a  letter:  "Boys,  if  Oliver  will  come  back  to 
cross  with  ns,  we  will  go  to  Oregon  next  year,"  this  signed 
by  the  father,  then  fifty  years  old.  The  letter  was  nearl.N' 
three  months  old  when  we  received  it.  What  should  we 
say  and  what  should  we  do?  "Would  Davenport  pay  for  the 
Columbia  River  claims  and  the  prospective  potato  crop  in 
the  fall — could  he?  We  will  say  yes,  Oliver  Avill  be  "\^^th 
you  next  Spring.  We  must  go  to  the  timber  camp  to  earn 
the  money  to  pay  expenses  of  the  trip  and  not  depend  al- 
together on  the  Columbia  River  asset. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  the  thingsT'  said  the  little 
wife. 

"Lock  them  up  in  the  cabin."  said  the  elder  brother. 

"And  you  go  and  stay  with  DofHemire,"  said  the  young 
husband. 

"Not  I,"  said  the  little  wife,  "I'm  going  along  to 
cook,"  and  thus  it  was  that  all  our  well-laid  ])lans  were 
suddenly  changed,  our  clearing  land  cleferi-ed,  the  chicken 
house,  the  innuites  of  which  were  to  make  us  rich,  was 
not  to  be  built,  the  pigs  were  not  bought  to  fatten  on  the 
clams,  and  many  other  pet  schemes  dropped  that  we  might 
accomplish  this  one  object,  that  Oliver  might  go  back  to 
Iowa  to  "bring  the  father  out"  across  the  Plains. 

We  struck  rapid,  heavy,  but  awkward  strokes  in  the  tim- 
ber camp  established  on  the  blufiP  overlooking  the  falls  at 
Tumwater,  while  the  little  wnfe  supplied  the  huckleberry 
pudding  for  dinner,  ])l(>nty  of  the  lightest,  whitest  bi-ead. 
vegetables,  meat,  and  fish  served  in  style  good  enough  for 
kings;  such  appetites!  No  coaxing  re(|uired  to  eat  a  hearty 
meal;  such  sound  sleep;  such  satisfaction!  Talk  about 
your  hardships.  We  would  have  none  of  it.  It  was  a 
pleasure  as  we  counted  the  eleven  dollars  a  day  that  the 


"We  Struck  Rapid,  Heavy,  But  Awkward  Strokes." 


120  A  Busy  Life 

Ti.illis  bi'othei's  paid  ns  for  cutting-  logs,  at  one  dollar  and 
seventy  eents  a  tliousand,  wliicli  we  earned  every  day,  antl 
Sundays,  loo.  seventy-seven  (loUai's  a  week.  Yes,  we  were 
i^oing  lo  make  it.  "'Make  what?"  the  reader  will  say. 
Why,  succeed  in  getting  money  enough  together  to  pay  the 
passage  of  the  elder  brother  to  Iowa.  And  what  a  trip. 
Over  to  the  Columbia  River,  out  from  there  by  steamer 
to  San  Francisco,  then  to  the  Isthmus,  then  New  York. 
after  which  by  rail  as  far  west  as  there  was  a  railroad  and 
tlien  walk  to  Eddyvilh',  Iowa,  from  where  the  start  was 
again  to  be  made. 

Again  the  younger  brother  was  left  without  money  and 
but  a  scant  supply  of  provisions,  and  winter  had  come  on. 
The  elder  brother  was  speeding  on  his  way,  and  could  not 
be  heard  from  frequently.  How  our  little  family  succeeded 
in  getting  enough  together  to  eat  is  not  an  interesting 
topic  for  the  general  reader.  Suffice^  to  say,  we  always 
secured  abundance,  even  if  at  tim(>s  the  variety  was  re- 
stricted. 

It  was  soon  after  Oliver's  departure"  thai  1  first  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Dr.  Tolmie.  It  was  upon  the  occasion 
when  our  new  baby  was  born,  now  the  mother  of  eight 
grown-up  children,  and  several  times  a  grandmother,  Mrs. 
Ella  Templeton  of  Ilalsey,  Oregon. 

Of  course.  Dr.  Tolmie  did  not  !)ractice  medicine.  He 
had  the  cares  of  the  great  foreign  eorpoi-ation,  the  Puget 
Sound  Agricultural  Company,  on  his  shoulders.  He  was 
harassed  by  the  settlers,  who  chafed  because  a  foreign  cor- 
poration had  fenced  up  quite  large  tracts  of  grazing  and 
some  farming  lands,  and  had  thousands  of  slieep  and  cattle 
on  the  range.  Constant  friction  was  the  result.  The  cattle 
were  wild;  therefore,  some  settler  would  kill  one  every  now 
and  llien,  and  make  the  remainder  still  wilder,  and  again, 
therefore,  the  more  the  reason  that  others  might  be  killed. 
The  Doctor  was  a  patient,  tactful  man,  with  an  impulse 
to  always  do  one  a  good  turn  foi-  llie  sake  of  doing  it. 
Consequen1l\-.  when  asked  to  attend,  he  did  so  without 
hesitation,  tliough  the  rei|uest  came   I'l'om  a  ]ierfect  strau- 


Ventures  and  Adventukes  121 

g-er  and  conipliaiicc  was  to  his  great  iiicoiivcniciu'c,  yet 
without  fee  and  without  expeetatioji  oi  ever  meeting  tlie 
parties  again.  This  fii'st  ac([uaintaiiee  ripened  into  friend- 
ship lifelong,  that  became  closer  as  he  nearetl  his  end.  But 
recently,  fifty  yeai's  after  this  event,  I  have  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  a.  visit  from  two  of  his  daughters,  and  I  may  say 
there  has  been  scarcely  a  year  in  all  this  time  but  some 
token  of  fi-iendshij)  has  passed,  lie  was  a  noble  man,  with 
noble  impulses.  He  died  on  his  Farm  near  Victoria  many 
years  ago. 

Soon  after  this,  i  made  my  first  acquaintance  witli 
Arthur  A.  Denny.  It  came  about  in  this  way.  He  and 
two  other  gentlemen  WTre  returning  from  the  first  Teri-i- 
torial  Legislature,  then  just  adjourned.  Wind  and  tide 
compelled  them  to  suspend  their  journey  from  Olympia 
to  Seattle,  and  to  stay  over  night  with  us  in  the  little 
cabin.  This  was  early  in  May,  1854.  Mr.  Denny  remarked 
in  the  morning  that  he  thought  there  was  a  good  founda- 
tion under  my  cabin  floor,  as  he  did  not  find  any  spring 
to  the  bed.  He  and  his  companion  laid  on  the  floor,  l)ut 
I  remember  we  did  not  go  to  bed  vei'y  early.  All  during 
the  session  we  had  heard  a  great  deal  about  removing  the 
cai)ital  of  the  Territory  from  0]ymj)ia  to  Steilacoom.  Tlie 
legislature  had  adjourned  and  no  action  had  been  taken, 
and,  in  fact,  no  bill  for  the  purpose  was  introduced.  Mr. 
Denny  said  that  before  the  recess  a  clear  majority  of  both 
houses  were  in  favor  of  removal  to  Steilacoom,  but  for  the 
mistake  of  Lafayette  Balch,  member  of  the  council  from 
Pierce  County,  the  removal  would  have  been  accomplished. 
Balch,  so  Denny  told  me,  felt  so  sure  of  Ins  game  that  he 
did  not  press  to  a  vote  before  the  recess. 

At  that,  the  first  session  of  the  legislature,  the  mania 
Avas  for  territorial  roads ;  everybody  wanted  a  territorial 
road.  One,  projected  from  Seattle  to  Bellingham  Bay, 
did  not  meet  with  approval  by  Balch.  Stroking  his  long 
beard  as  he  was  wont  to  do  almost  mechanically,  he 
"thought  they  had  gone  far  enough  in  establishing  roads 
for  one  session."     It  was  impolitic  in  the  highest  degi'ee 


122  A  Bu.SY  Life 

for  Balch  to  offend  the  uortherii  iiiciiihci-s  in  tliis  wny,  as 
also  nnneeessaiy,  as  iisnally  these  roads  remained  on  paper 
only,  and  cost  notliin'^.  However,  lie  lost  his  majority  in 
the  conncil.  and  so  the  project  died,  to  the  very  great  dis- 
appointment of  the  people  of  Steilacoom  and  surrounding 
country. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Tlili'   THROUGH   THE  NATCHESS  PASS. 

The  latter  })art  of  August,  1854,  James  K.  Hurd,  of 
Olympia,  sent  me  word  that  he  had  heen  out  on  the  immi- 
grant trail  and  heard  that  some  of  my  relations  on  the 
road  were  belated  and  short  of  provisions.  He  advised 
me  that  I  should  go  to  their  assistance,  and  particularly 
if  I  Avanted  to  be  sure  they  should  come  direct  to  Puget 
Sound  over  the  Cascade  Mountains,  and  not  go  down  the 
Columbia  River  into  Oregon.  How  it  could  be,  with  the 
experience  of  my  brother  Oliver  to  guide  them,  that  ray 
people  should  be  in  the  condition  descidbed  was  past  my 
comprehension.  However,  I  accepted  the  statement  as  true 
and  particularly  felt  the  importance  of  their  having  cer- 
tain knowledge  as  to  prevailing  conditions  of  an  over- 
mountain  trip  through  the  Natchess  Pass.  But  how  could 
I  go  and  leave  wife  and  two  babies  on  our  island  home? 
The  summer  had  been  spent  clearing  land  and  planting 
crops,  and  my  finances  were  very  low.  To  remove  my 
family  would  cost  money,  besides  the  abandonment  of  the 
season's  work  to  almost  a  certain  destruction.  The  wife  said 
at  once,  and  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  to  go,  and  she 
and  Mrs.  Darrow,  who  was  with  us  as  nurse  and  companion 
friend,  would  stay  "I'ight  whei-e  we  are  until  you  get 
back,"  with  a  confidence  in  which  I  did  not  share.  The 
trip  at  best  was  hazardous  to  an  extent,  even  when  ini- 
dertaken  well  prepared  and  with  company.  So  far  as  1 
could  see,  T  might  have  to  go  on  foot  and  pack  my  food 
and  blanket  on  my  back,  and  T  knew  that  I  W(v,dd  have  to 


Ventures  and  Adventures  12^^ 

go  alone.  I  knew  some  work  had  been  done  on  the  road 
during'  tlie  sunnncr,  hul  was  unable  to  get  definite  informa- 
tion as  to  whether  any  camps  were  yet  left  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  did  not  have  that  abiding'  faith  in  my  ability  to 
get  back  tliat  rested  in  the  breast  of  the  little,  courageous 
wife,  but  1  dared  not  impart  my  forebodings  to  harass 
and  intensify  her  fears  and  disturb  her  peace  of  mind 
while  absent.  The  immigration  the  previous  year,  as  r(^- 
lated  elsewhere,  had  encountered  formidable  difficulties  in 
the  mountains,  narrowly  escaping  the  loss  of  everything, 
if  not  facing  actual  starvation.  Reports  were  current  that 
the  government  appropriation  for  a  military  road  had  been 
expended,  and  that  the  road  was  passable  for  teams,  but 
a  like  report  had  been  freely  circulated  the  previous  year, 
with  results  almost  disastrous  to  those  attempting  to  come 
through.  I  could  not  help  feeling  that  possibly  the  same 
conditions  yet  existed.  The  only  way  to  determine  the 
(juestion  was  to  go  and  see  for  myself;  meet  my  father's 
party  and  jiilot  them  through  the  pass. 

It  was  on  the  third  day  of  September  of  ISS-l  that  I 
left  home.  I  had  been  planting  turnips  for  two  days,  and 
made  a  memorajidum  of  the  date,  and  by  that  fix  the  date 
of  my  departure.  Of  that  turnip  crop  T  shall  have  more 
to  say  later,  as  it  had  a  cheering  effect  upon  the  incoming 
innnigrants. 

At  Steilacoom  there  was  a  character  then  understood  by 
few,  and  1  may  say  by  not  even  many  to  the  end,  in  whom, 
somehow,  T  had  implicit  confidence.  Dr.  J.  1>,  Webber, 
afterwards  of  the  firm  of  Baleh  &  Webber,  of  Steilacoom, 
the  largest  shipping  and  mercantile  firm  on  the  Sound, 
was  a.  very  eccentric  man.  Between  him  and  myself  there 
would  seem  to  be  a  gulf  that  could  not  be  closed.  Our 
habits  of  life  were  as  diametrically  opposite  as  possible  for 
two  men  to  be.  He  was  always  drinking ;  never  sober, 
iKuther  ever  drunk.  1  would  never  touch  a  drop,  while  the 
doctor  would  certainly  drink  a  dozen  times  a  day,  just  a 
little  at  a  time,  but  seemingly  tippling  all  the  time.  Then, 
he  openly  kept  an  hulian  woman  in  defiance  of  the  senti- 


124  A  P.TTSY  Life 

meiit  of  Jill  the  rniiiilics  of  llie  coiniiuiiiity.  It  was  with  this 
man  llial  I  ciil  rustcHl  the  safekeeping'  of  my  little  family. 
[  knew  my  wife  had  such  an  aversion  to  this  class  that  1 
did  not  even  tell  her  with  Avhom  I  would  arrange  to  look 
out  for  her  welfare,  but  suggested  another  to  whom  she 
might  apply  in  case  of  need.  I  knew  Dr.  Webber  for  long 
years  afterwards,  and  until  tlie  day  of  his  horrible  death 
with  delirium  tremens,  and  never  had  my  faith  shaken  as 
to  the  innate  goodness  of  the  man.  Why  these  contrary 
traits  of  character  should  be,  I  cannot  say,  but  so  it  was. 
His  \\-ord  was  as  good  as  his  bond,  and  his  impulses  were 
all  directly  opposite  to  his  personal  habits.  Twice  a  week 
an  Indian  Avoman  visited  the  cabin  on  the  island,  always 
with  some  little  presents  and  making  inquiries  about  the 
babies  and  whether  there  was  anything  needed,  witli  the 
parting  "alki  nika  keelapie"  (by  and  by  I  will  return)  ; 
and  she  did,  every  few  days  after  my  ahsence. 

When  I  spoke  to  Webber  about  what  I  wanted,  he  seemed 
pleased  to  be  able  to  do  a  kind  act,  and,  to  reassure  me, 
got  out  his  field  glasses  and  turned  it  on  the  cabin  across 
the  water,  three  miles  distant.  Looking  through  it  intently 
for  a  moment  and  handing  the  glass  to  me,  said,  "I  can 
see  everything  going  on  over  there,  and  you  need  have  no 
uneasiness  about  your  folks  while  gone,"  and  I  did  not. 

With  a  r)0-])ound  flour  sack  filled  with  hard  bread,  or  navy 
biscuit,  a  small  piece  of  dried  venison,  a  couple  of  pounds 
of  cheese,  a  tin  cup  and  half  of  a  three  point  blanket,  all 
made  into  a  pack  of  less  than  forty  pounds,  I  climbed  the 
hill  at  Steilacoom  and  took  the  road  leading  to  Puyallup, 
and  spent  the  night  with  Jonathan  McCUu-ty,  near  where 
the  town  of  Sunniei-  now  is. 

McCJarty  said:  "Yon  can't  get  across  the  streams  on 
foot;  I  will  let  you  have  a  pony.  He  is  small,  but  sure- 
footed, and  hardy,  and  will  in  any  event  carry  you  across 
the  rivers."  McCarty  also  said:  "Tell  your  folks  this  is 
the  greatest  grass  country  on  earth;  why.  !  am  sni'(>  I  har- 
vested five  tons  of  timolhy  lo  the  aci'c  this  year."  lI])on 
m_\'  expressing  a  donb1,  he  said  he  knew  he  was  coi'i'ect  by 


Ventuues  and  Advkntures  125 

the  ineasureinent  of  the  mow  in  llie  barn  and  the  land. 
In  after  yeai's,  I  eanie  to  know  lie  was  (^oi-re(;t.  thou<ili  at 
the  time  I  eould  not  liel])  but  believe  he  was  mistaken. 

The  next  day  found  me  on  tlie  road  with  my  bhinket 
under  the  saddle,  my  sack  of  hard  bread  strapped  on  be- 
hind the  saddle,  and  myself  mounted  to  ride  on  level 
stretches  of  the  road,  or  across  streams,  of  wliieh,  as  will 
appear  later,  I  had  full  forty  crossings  to  make,  but  had 
onh'  one  ahead  of  me  the  first  day.  That  one,  though,  as 
the  Englishman  would  say,  was  a  "nasty"  one,  across 
White  River  at  Porter's  place. 

White  River  on  the  upper  reaches  is  a  roaring  torrent 
only  at  all  fordable  in  low  water  and  in  but  few  places. 
The  rush  of  waters  can  be  heard  for  a  mile  or  more  from 
the  high  blufip  overlooking  the  narrow  valley,  or  rather  can- 
yon, and  i)resented  a  formidable  barrier  for  a  lone  traveler. 
The  river  bed  is  full  of  ))oulders  worn  roujided  and  smooth 
and  slippery,  from  the  size  of  a  man's  head  to  yery  mucli 
larger,  thus  making  footing  for  animals  uncertain.  After 
my  first  crossing,  I  dreaded  those  to  come,  which  I  knew 
were  ahead  of  me,  more  than  all  else  of  the  trip,  for  a 
mistep  of  the  pony  meant  fatal  results  in  all  probability. 
The  little  fellow,  though,  seemed  to  be  equal  to  the  occa- 
sion. If  the  footing  l)ecame  too  uncertain,  he  would  stop 
stock  still,  and  poiuid  the  water  with  one  foot  and  finally 
reach  out  carefully  until  he  could  find  secure  footing,  and 
then  move  up  a  step  or  two.  The  water  of  the  rivei'  is 
so  charged  ^^^th  the  sediment  from  the  glaciers  above,  that 
the  bottom  could  not  be  seen — only  felt — hence  the  abso- 
lute necessity  of  feeling  one's  way.  It  is  wondei'ful,  the 
sagacity  or  instinct  or  intelligence,  or  whatever  we  may  call 
it,  manifested  by  the  horse.  I  immediately  learned  that 
my  pony  could  be  trusted  on  the  fords  better  than  myself, 
thereafter  I  held  only  a  supporting,  but  not  a  guiding  i^ein, 
and  he  carried  me  safely  over  the  forty  crossings  on  my 
way  out,  and  my  brother  as  many  on  the  return  trip. 

Allen  Porter  lived  near  the  first  crossing,  on  the  farther 
side,  and  as  Ibis  was  the  last  settle)'  T  would  see  and  the 


126  A  Brsv  Ltpr 

last  place  1  could  get  feed  for  my  pony,  otliev  than  jirass  or 
browse,  I  put  up  for  the  night  under  his  roof.  He  said 
I  was  going  on  a  "Tom  fool's  errand,"  for  my  folks  could 
take  care  of  themselves,  and  tried  to  dissuade  me  from 
proceeding  on  my  journey.  But  I  ^vould  not  be  turned 
back  and  the  following  morning  cut  loose  from  the  settle- 
ments and,  figuratively  speaking,  plunged  into  the  deep 
forest  of  the  mountains. 

The  road  (if  it  could  be  properly  called  a  road)  lay  in 
the  narrow  valley  of  White  River,  or  on  the  mountains 
adjacent,  in  some  places  (as  at  JMud  Mountain)  reaching 
an  altitude  of  more  than  a  thousand  feet  above  the  rivei' 
bed.  Some  places  the  forest  was  so  dense  that  one  could 
scarcely  see  to  read  at  midday,  while  in  other  places  large 
burns  gave  an  opening  for  daylight. 

During  the  forenoon  of  this  first  day,  while  in  one  of 
those  deepest  of  deep  forests,  where,  if  the  sky  was  clear, 
and  one  could  catch  a  spot  you  could  see  out  overhead, 
one  might  see  the  stars  as  from  a  deep  well,  my  pony 
stopped  short,  raised  his  head  with  his  ears  pricked  up. 
indicating  something  unusual  was  at  hand.  Just  then  I 
caught  an  indistinct  sight  of  a  movement  aheati,  and 
thought  I  heard  voices,  while  the  pony  made  an  eft'ort  to 
turn  and  flee  in  the  opposite  direction.  Soon  there  ap- 
peared three  women  and  eight  children  on  foot,  coining 
down  the  road  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  presence  of  any 
one  but  themselves  in  the  forest. 

"Why,  stranger!  Where  on  earth  did  you  come  from? 
Whei-e  are  you  going  to,  and  what  are  you  here  for?"  was 
asked  by  the  foremost  woman  of  the  party,  in  such  ([uick 
succession  as  to  utterly  preclude  any  answer,  as  she  dis- 
covered me  standing  on  the  I'oadway  holding  my  uneasy 
pony.  IMutual  explanations  soon  followed.  1  soon  learned 
their  tc^ams  had  become  exhausted,  and  that  all  the  wagons 
but  one  had  been  left,  and  this  one  was  on  the  I'oad  a  few 
miles  behind  them ;  that  they  were  entirely  out  of  pro- 
visions and  had  had  nothing  to  eat  for  twenty  hours,  ex- 
cept what  natui-al  food  they  had  gatlier(>d,  which  was  not 


Ventures  and  Adventures  127 

much.  Tliey  eagerly  iiKjiiired  the  distance  to  food,  which 
I  thoiiglit  they  iiiigiit  i)Ossibly  reach  that  niglit,  })nt  in  any 
event  th(^  next  morning  early.  IVIeanwhile  I  had  opened 
my  sack  of  hard  l)read  and  gave  each  a  crackei-,  in  the 
eating  of  which  tlie  sound  resembled  pigs  cracking  dry, 
hard  corn. 

Of  tliose  eleven  persons,  I  only  know  of  but  one  now 
alive,  although,  of  course,  the  children  soon  outgrew  my 
knowledge  of  them,  but  they  never-  forgot  me. 

Mrs.  Anne  Faweet,  the  sjookesman  of  the  party,  I  knew 
well  in  after  years,  and  although  now  eighty  years  old* 
(she  will  pardon  me  for  telling  her  age),  is  living  in  good 
circumstances  a  mile  out  from  the  towai  of  Auburn,  nearly 
twenty  miles  south  of  Seattle,  and  ])ut  a  couple  of  miles 
from  the  scene  of  the  dreadful  massacre  at  the  outbreak 
leading  to  the  Indian  war  of  1855,  where  the  gallant 
Lieutenant  Slaughter  lost  his  life. 

Mrs.  Faweet  can  scarcely  be  called  a  typical  pioneer 
woman,  yet  there  were  many  approaching  her  ways.  She 
was  of  too  independent  a  character  to  be  molded  into  that 
class;  too  self-reliant  to  be  altogether  like  her  neighbor 
housewives;  and  yet  was  possessed  of  those  sturdy  virtues 
so  common  watli  the  pioneer — industry  and  frugality, 
coupled  with  unbounded  hospitality.  The  other  ladies  of 
the  party,  j\Irs.  Herpsberger  and  Mrs.  Hall,  I  never  knew 
afterwards,  and  have  no  knowledge  as  to  their  fate,  other 
than  that  they  arrived  safely  in  the  settlement. 

But  we  neither  of  us  had  time  to  parley  or  visit,  and 
so  the  ladies  ^xdth  their  children,  barefoot  and  ragged,  bare- 
headed and  unkempt,  started  down  the  mountain  intent 
on  reaching  food,  while  I  started  up  the  road  wondering 
or  not  whether  this  scene  was  to  be  often  repeated  as  I 
advanced  on  my  journey.  A  dozen  biscuits  of  hard  bread 
is  usually  a  very  small  matter,  but  with  me  it  might  mean 
a  great  deal.  How  far  would  I  have  to  go?  When  could 
I  find  out  ?     What  would  be  the  plight  of  my  people  when 

*Since  these  lines  were  penned  the  good  lady  died  at  the  age  of  88. 


128  A  Busy  Ltfe 

foiuid?  Or  wuukl  1  find  tlicin  at  all?  Might  they  not 
pass  by  and  he  on  the  way  down  the  Columbia  River  before 
1  could  roach  the  main  immigrant  trail?  These  and  kin- 
dred (luestious  weighed  heavily  on  my  mind  as  I  slowly 
and  gradually  ascended  the  mountain. 

Som<'  new  work  on  the  road  gave  evidence  that  men  had 
recently  been  there,  but  the  work  was  so  slight  one  could 
easily  believe  immigrants  might  have  done  it  as  they  passed. 
Fifteen  thousand  dollars  had  been  appropriated  by  Con- 
gress for  a  military  road,  which  report  said  would  be 
expended  in  imi)roving  the  way  cut  by  the  immigrants  and 
citizens  through  the  Natehess  Pass  during  the  summer  of 
1853.  I  saw  some  of  the  work,  but  do  not  remember  seeing 
any  of  the  men,  as  I  stuck  close  to  the  old  trail,  and  so  my 
first  camp  was  made  alone,  west  of  the  summit  and  without 
special  incident.  I  had  reached  an  altitude  where  the  night 
chill  was  keenly  felt,  and,  with  my  light  blanket,  missed 
the  friendly  contact  of  the  back  of  the  faithful  ox  that  had 
served  me  so  well  on  the  }>lains.  My  pony  had  nothing 
but  browse  for  supper,  and  was  restless.  Nevertheless  I 
slept  soundly  and  was  up  early,  refreshed  and  ready  to 
resume  the  journey. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

TRH'    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS [CONTINUED]. 

It  is  sti'ange  how  the  mind  will  vividly  retain  the  memory 
of  some  incidents  of  no  jnirticular  importance,  while  the 
recollection  of  other  passing  events  so  completely  fades 
away.  I  knew  I  had  to  cross  that  ugly  stream,  White 
River,  five  times  during  the  first  day's  travel,  but  cannot 
recall  but  one  crossing,  where  my  pony  nearly  lost  his 
balance,  and  came  down  on  his  knees  with  his  nose  in  the 
water  for  the  moment,  but  to  recover  and  bravely  carry  me 
out  safely. 

The  lone  camp  well  up  on  the  mountain  had  chilled  me, 
but  the  pi'ospect  beft)re   me   and   that  I  had  left  behind 


Ventures  and  Adventures     .  129 

biought  a  depressed  feeling-  most  difficult  to  describe.  1 
liad  passed  througli  long  stretches  of  forest  so  tall  and 
so  dense  that  it  seemed  incredible  that  snch  did  exist  any- 
where on  earth.  And  then,  the  road;  siieli  a  road,  if  it 
could  be  called  a  road.  Curiously  enough,  the  heavier  the 
standing  timber,  the  easier  it  had  been  to  slip  through 
with  wagons,  there  being  but  little  undecayed  or  down 
timber.  In  the  ancient  of  days,  however,  great  giants  had 
been  uprooted,  lifting  considerable  earth  wdtii  the  upturned 
roots,  that,  as  time  went  on  and  the  roots  decayed  formed 
mounds  two,  tliree,  or  four  feet  high,  leaving  a  correspond- 
ing hollow  in  which  one  would  plunge,  the  whole  being  cov- 
ered by  a  dense,  short,  evergreen  growth,  completely  hiding 
from  view  the  unevenness  of  the  ground.  Over  these  hil- 
locks and  hollows  the  inuiiigrants  had  rolled  their  wagon 
wheels,  and  over  the  large  roots  of  the  fir,  often  as  big 
as  one's  body  and  nearly  all  of  them  on  top  of  the  ground. 
I  will  not  undertake  to  say  how  many  of  these  giant  trees 
were  to  be  found  to  the  acre,  but  they  were  so  numerous 
and  so  large  that  in  many  places  it  was  difficult  to  find  a 
passageway  between  them,  and  then  only  by  a  tortuous 
route  winding  in  various  directions.  When  the  timber 
burns  were  encountered  the  situation  was  worse.  Often 
the  remains  of  timber  would  be  piled  in  such  confusion 
that  sometimes  wagons  could  pass  under  logs  that  rested 
on  others;  then  again  others  were  encountered  half  buried, 
while  still  others  would  rest  a  foot  or  so  from  the  ground. 
These,  let  the  reader  remember,  oftentimes  were  five  feet 
or  more  in  diameter,  with  trunks  from  two  to  three  hun- 
dred feet  in  length.  All  sorts  of  devices  had  been  resoi-ted 
to  in  order  to  overcome  those  obstructions.  In  many  cases, 
where  not  too  large,  cuts  had  been  taken  out,  while  in 
other  places  the  large  timber  had  been  bridged  up  to  by 
piling  smaller  logs,  rotten  chunks,  brush,  or  earth,  so  the 
wheels  of  the  wagon  could  be  rolled  up  over  the  body  of 
the  tree.  Uusually  three  notches  would  be  cut  on  the  top 
of  the  log,  two  for  the  wheels  and  one  for  the  reach  or 
cupling  pole  to  pass  through. 

10—1958 


loO  A  Busy  Life 

In  such  places  the  oxen  would  be  taken  to  the  opposite 
side,  a  chain  or  rope  run  to  the  end  of  the  tongne,  a  man 
to  drive,  one  or  two  to  guide  the  tongu(%  others  to  help 
at  the  wheels,  and  so  with  infinite  labor  and  great  care 
the  wagons  would  gradually  be  M^orked  down  the  mountain 
in  the  direction  of  the  settlements.  Small  wonder  that  the 
innnigrants  of  the  previous  year  should  report  that  they 
had  to  cut  tlieir  way  through  the  timber,  while  the  citizen 
road  workers  liad  reported  that  the  road  was  o])ened,  and 
small  wonder  that  the  prospect  of  the  road  should  have  as 
chilling  effect  on  my  mind  as  the  chill  'of  the  mountain 
air  had  had  on  my  body. 

But,  the  more  difficulties  encountered,  the  more  deter- 
mined T  became,  at  all  hazards,  to  push  through,  for  the 
more  the  necessity  to  acquaint  myself  with  the  obstacles 
to  be  encountered  and  to  be  with  my  friends  to  encourage 
and  lielp  them.  Before  me  lay  the  great  range  or  pass, 
five  thousand  feet  above  sea  level,  and  the  rugged  moun- 
tain climb  to  get  to  the  summit,  and  the  summit  prairies 
where  my  pony  could  have  a  feast  of  gi'ass.  It  was  on 
tins  summit  hill  the  immigration  of  the  previous  year  had 
encountered  such  grave  difficulties.  At  the  risk  of  in  part 
repeating,  I  am  tempted  to  quote  some  of  my  own  words 
to  a  select  party  of  friends,  the  teachers  of  the  county  in 
which  I  have  lived  so  long,  prepared  for  that  special 
occasion. 

"About  twenty  miles  north  of  the  great  mountain  of 
the  Cascade  range  is  a  picturesque,  small  scope  of  open 
country  known  as  Summit  Prairie,  in  the  Natchess  Pass, 
some  seventy  miles  southeasterly  from  this  city  (Tacoma). 
In  this  prairie,  fifty  years  ago  this  coming  autumn,  a 
camp  of  immigrants  M^as  to  be  seen.  ^  *  *  Qq  back 
they  could  not;  either  they  must  go  ahead  or  starve  in 
the  mountains.  A  short  way  out  from  the  camp  a  steep 
mountain  declivity  lay  square  across  their  track.  As  one 
of  the  ladies  of  the  party  said,  when  she  first  saw  it : 
'Why  Lawsee  Massed  We  have  come  to  the  jumping  off 
])lace  at  last!'  This  lady  felt,  as  many  others  of  the  party 
i'elt,  like  they  had  come  to  the  end  of  the  world  (to  them), 


Vrntiikks  and  Adventures  l;31 

and  file  exelainatioii  was  not  foi-  stage  effect,  but  ot  terveiit 
prayer  for  deliverance. 

"Stout  heai'ts  in  the  party  were  not  to  Ix;  deterred  t'l'oin 
making-  tlie  efl'ort  to  go  ahead.  Go  around  this  hill  they 
could  not;  go  down  it  with  logs  trailed  to  the  wagons,  as 
they  had  done  before,  they  could  not,  as  the  hill  was  so 
steep  the  logs  would  go  end  over  end  and  be  a  daniiei' 
instead  of  a  help.  So  the  rope  they  had  was  run  down 
the  hill  and  found  to  be  too  short  to  reach  the  bottom.  One 
of  the  leaders  of  the  party  (I  knew  him  well)  turned  to 
his  men  and  said,  'Kill  a  steer';  and  they  killed  a  steer, 
cut  his  hide  into  strips  and  spliced  it  to  the  rope,  it  was 
found  yet  to  be  too  short  to  reach  to  the  bottom.  The 
order  went  out:  'Kill  two  more  steers!'  And  two  more 
steers  were  killed,  their  hides  cut  into  strips  and  spliced 
to  the  rope,  which  then  reached  the  bottom  of  the  hill; 
and  by  the  aid  of  that  rope  and  strips  of  the  hides  of 
those  three  steers,  twenty-nine  wagons  M^ere  lowered  down 
the  mountain  side  to  the  bottom  of  the  steep  hill. 

"Now,  my  friends,  there  is  no  fiction  abont  this  story — 
it  is  a  true  story,  and  some  of  the  actors  are  yet  alive,  and 
some  of  them  live  in  this  county.  Nor  were  their  trials 
ended  when  they  got  their  wagons  down  to  the  bottom  of 
that  hill. 

"Does  it  now  seem  possible  for  mortal  man  to  do  this? 
And  yet  this  is  only  a  plain  statement  of  an  incident  of 
pioneer  life  without  giving  any  names  and  dates,  that  can 
yet  be  verified  by  living  witnesses ;  but  these  witnesses  are 
not  here  for  long. 

"James  Biles,  who  afterwards  settled  near  Olympia,  was 
the  man  who  ordered  the  steers  killed  to  procure  the  hides 
to  leng-then  out  the  rope.  Geo.  H.  Himes,  of  Portland, 
who  is  still  living,  w^as  one  of  the  party;  so  was  Stephen 
Judson,  of  Steilacoom ;  also  Nelson  Sargent,  of  Grand 
Mound,  now  a  very  old  man. 

"llie  feat  of  bringing  that  train  of  twenty-nine  wagons 
in  with  the  loss  of  only  one  is  the  greatest  of  anything  I 
ever  knew  or  heard  of  in  the  way  of  pioneer  travel. 

"With  snail-like  movements,  the  cattle  and  men  becom- 


132  A  P>[Tsv  LtFE 

ing-  weaker  and  weakei",  progress  was  made  each  day  until 
it  finally  seemed  as  if  the  oxen  could  do  no  more,  and  it 
became  necessary  to  send  tluMn  forward  on  the  trail  ten 
miles,  where  it  was  known  plenty  of  grass  could  be  had. 
Meantime  the  work  on  the  road  continued  until  the  third 
day,  when  the  last  particle  of  food  was  gone.  The  teams 
were  brought  back,  the  trip  over  the  whole  ten  miles  made, 
and  Connell's  Prairie  reached  at  dark. 

"The  struggle  over  that  ten  miles,  where  to  a  certain 
extent  each  party  became  so  intent  on  their  particular 
surroundings  as  to  forget  all  else,  left  the  women  and 
children  to  take  care  of  themselves  while  the  husbands 
tugged  at  the  wagons.  I  now  have  in  mind  to  relate  the 
experience  of  one  of  these  mothers  with  a  ten-year-old  boy. 
one  child  four  years  and  another  eight  months. 

"Part  of  the  time  these  people  traveled  on  the  old  trail 
and  part  on  the  newly-cut  road,  and  l)y  some  means  fell 
beliind  the  wagons,  which  forded  that  turbulent,  dangerous 
stream,  White  River,  before  they  reached  the  bank,  and 
were  out  of  sight,  not  knowing  but  the  women  and  children 
were  ahead. 

"I  wish  eveiy  little  boy  of  ten  years  of  age  of  this  great 
State,  or,  for  that  matter,  twenty  years  old  or  more,  could 
read  and  profit  by  what  1  am  now  going  to  relate,  espe- 
cially if  that  little  or  big  boy  at  times  thinks  he  is  having 
a  hard  time  because  he  is  asked  to  help  his  mother  or 
father  at  odd  times,  or  perchance  to  put  in  a  good  solid 
day's  work  on  Saturday,  instead  of  spending  it  as  a  holi- 
day ;  or  if  he  has  a  cow  to  milk  or  wood  to  split,  or  any- 
thing that  is  work,  to  nmke  him  bewail  his  fate  for  having 
such  a  hard  time  in  life.  I  think  the  reading  of  the  expe- 
rience of  this  little  ten-year-old  boy  with  his  mother  and 
the  Iwo  smaller  children  would  encourage  him  to  feel  more 
clieej-ful  and  more  content  with  his  lot. 

"As  1  have  said,  the  wagons  had  passed  on.  and  there 
these  four  people  were  on  the  right  bank  of  the  I'iver  while 
their  whole  company  was  on  the  oi)posite  bank,  and  had 
lefl  Ihem  tliei'e  alone. 


Ventfires  and  Adventures  VAS 

"A  large  fallen  tree  reached  across  the  river,  but  the 
top  on  the  further  side  lay  so  close  to  the  \vat(!r  that  a 
constant  trembling  and  swaviiig  made  the  trip  dangerous. 

"None  of  them  had  eaten  anything  since  the  day  previ- 
ous, and  but  a  scant  supply  then;  but  the  boy  resolutely 
shouldered  the  four-year-old  and  safely  deposited  him  on 
the  other  side.  Then  came  next  the  little  tot,  the  baby,  to 
be  carried  in  arms  across.    Next  came  the  mother. 

"  'I  can't  go!'  she  exclaimed;  'it  makes  me  so  dizzy.' 

"  'Put  one  hand  over  your  eyes,  mother,  and  take  hold 
of  me  with  the  other,'  said  the  boj' ;  and  so  they  began  to 
move  out  sideways  on  the  log,  a  helf  step  at  a  time. 

"  'Hold  steady,  mother;  we  are  nearly  over." 

' '  '  Oh,  I  am  gone ! '  was  the  only  response,  as  she  lost  her 
balance  and  fell  into  the  river,  but  happily  so  near  the 
farther  bank  that  the  little  boy  was  able  to  catch  a  bush 
with  one  hand  that  hung  over  the  bank,  while  holding  on 
to  his  mother  with  the  other,  and  so  she  was  saved. 

"It  was  then  nearly  dark,  and  without  any  knowledge 
of  how  far  it  was  to  camp,  the  little  party  started  on  the 
road,  only  tarrying  long  enough  on  the  bank  of  the  rivei- 
for  the  mother  to  WTing  the  water  out  of  her  skirts,  the 
boy  carrying  the  ])aby,  while  the  four-year-old  walked 
beside  his  mother.  After  nearly  two  miles  of  ti-avel  and 
ascending  a  very  steep  hill,  it  being  now  dark,  the  glimmer 
of  cam})  lights  came  into  view;  but  the  mother  could  see 
nothing,  for  she  fell  senseless,  uttei-ly  prostrated. 

"I  have  been  up  and  down  that  hill  a  numbei-  of  times, 
and  do  not  wonder  the  poor  woman  fell  helpless  after  the 
effort  to  reach  the  top.  The  gi-eat  wojider  is  that  she  should 
have  been  able  to  go  as  far  as  she  did.  The  incident  illus- 
trates how  the  will  power  can  nerve  one  up  to  exti'aor- 
dinary  achievements,  but  when  the  object  is  attained  and 
the  danger  is  past,  then  the  power  is  measurably  lost,  as 
in  this  case,  when  the  good  woman  came  to  know  they  were 
safe.  The  boy  hurried  his  two  little  brothers  into  camp, 
calling   for   help   to   rescue   his   mother.      The   appeal    was 


134  A  Busy  Life 

promptly  responded  to,  the  woman  being  carried  into  camp 
and  tenderlj'  cared  for  until  she  revived. 

"Being  asked  if  he  did  not  want  something-  to  eat,  the 
boy  said  'he  had  forgotten  all  about  it,'  and  further,  'he 
didn  't  see  anything  to  eat,  anyway ' ;  Avhereupon  some  one 
with  a  stick  began  to  uncover  some  roasted  potatoes,  which 
he  has  decided  was  the  best  meal  he  has  ever  eaten,  even 
to  this  day. 

''This  is  a  plain  recital  of  actual  occurrences,  without 
exaggeration,  obtained  from  the  parties  themselves  and 
corroborated  by  numerous  living  witnesses. 

"There  were  128  people  in  that  train,  and  through  the 
indefatigable  efforts  of  Mr.  Geo.  H.  Himes,  of  Portland, 
Oregon,  who  w^as  one  of  the  party,  and  in  fact  the  ten- 
year-old  boy  referred  to,  I  am  able  to  give  the  names  in 
part. 

"I  have  been  thus  particular  in  telling  this  story  to 
illustrate  W'hat  trials  were  encountered  and  overcome  b}' 
the  pioneers  of  that  day,  to  the  end  tliat  the  later  genera- 
tions may  pause  in  their  hasty  condemnation  of  their  pres- 
ent surroundings  and  opportunities  and  to  ask  themselves 
whether  in  all  candor  they  do  not  feel  they  are  blessed 
beyond  the  generation  that  has  goiie  before  them,  the  hardy 
pioneers  of  this  country." 

This  book  could  easily  be  filled  by  the  recital  of  such 
heroic  acts,  vaiying  onlj^  in  detail  and  perhaps  in  tragic- 
results;  yet  Avould  only  show  in  fact  the  ready,  i-esoui-ceful 
tact  of  the  pioneers  of  those  days. 

I  want  to  repeat  here  again  that  1  do  not  look  upon 
that  generation  of  men  and  women  as  superior  to  the 
present  generation,  except  in  this:  The  pioneers  had  lost 
a  large  number  of  physicallj^  weak  on  the  trip,  thus  apply- 
ing the  great  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest ;  and  further, 
that  the  majcu'ity  of  the  pioneers  in  the  true  sense  of  the 
word — frontiersmen  for  generations  before — hence  were 
by  training  and  habits  cinincntly  fitted  to  meet  the  emei-- 
gencies  of  tlie  trip  and  coiiditious  to  follow. 


Ventures  and  Anvi:NTURES  135 

One  of  the  iueklents  of  this  trip  should  be  related  to 
perpetuate  the  memory  of  heroic  actions  of  the  times,  that 
of  the  famous  ride  across  these  mountains  and  to  Olympia, 
of  Mrs.  Catherine  Frazier,  one  of  this  party,  on  an  ox. 

Three  days  after  arrival,  Mrs.  Frazier  gave  birth  to  the 
third  white  child  born  in  Pierce  County,  Washington 
Frazier,  named  after  the  great  territory  that  had  been 
chosen  for  the  home  of  the  parents  and  descendants. 

The  first  report,  that  the  "mother  and  son  were  doing 
well,"  can  again  and  again  be  repeated,  as  both*  are  yet 
alive,  the  mother  now  past  seventy-three  and  the  son  fifty, 
and  both  yet  residing  at  South  Bay,  near  Ohanpia,  where 
the  parents  soon  settled  after  arrival. 

The  curious  part  of  such  incidents  is  the  perfect  uncon- 
sciousness of  the  parties  of  having  done  anything  that 
would  be  handed  down  to  posterity  as  exhibiting  any  spirit 
of  fortitude  or  of  having  performed  any  heroic  act.  The 
young  bride  could  not  walk,  neither  could  she  be  taken 
into  the  wagons,  and  she  could  ride  an  ox.  and  so,  without 
ceremony,  mounted  her  steed  and  fell  into  the  procession 
without  attracting  especial  attention  or  passing  remark. 
Doubtless  the  lady,  at  the  time,  would  have  shrunk  from 
any  undue  notice,  because  of  her  mount,  and  would  have 
preferred  a  more  appropriate  entry  into  the  future  capital 
of  the  future  State,  but  it  is  now  quite  probably  that  she 
looks  upon  the  act  with  a  feeling  akin  to  pride,  and  in 
any  event,  not  vnth.  feelings  of  mortification  or  false  pride 
that  possibly,  at  that  time,  might  have  lurked  within  her 
breast. 

The  birth  of  children  was  not  an  infrequent  incident 
on  the  plains,  the  almost  universal  report  following,  ' '  doing 
as  well  as  could  be  expected, ' '  the  trip  being  resumed  with 
])ut  very  short  interruption,  the  little  ones  being  soon  ex- 
liibited  with  the  usual  motherly  pride. 

*Sinpe  these  lines  were  penned  Mrs.  Frazier  has  joined  the  majority  of  that  generation 
the  life  beyond. 


136  A  BuiSY  Life 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHP^SS    PASS [CONTINUED.] 

Readers  of  previous  chapters  will  remember  the  lonely 
camp  mentioned  and  the  steep  mountain  ahead  of  it  to 
reach  the  summit. 

What  with  the  sweat  incident  to  the  day's  travel,  the 
chill  air  of  an  October  night  in  the  mountains,  with  but 
half  a  three-point  blanket  as  covering  and  the  ground  for 
a  mattress,  small  wonder  my  muscles  were  a  little  stiffened 
when  I  arose  and  prepared  for  the  ascent  to  the  summit. 
Bobbj'  had,  as  I  have  said,  been  restless  during  the  night, 
and,  when  the  roll  of  blankets  and  the  hard  bread  was 
securely  strapped  on  behind,  suddenly  turned  his  face 
homeward,  evidently  not  relishing  the  fare  of  browse  for 
supper.  He  seemingly  had  concluded  he  had  had  enough 
of  the  trip,  and  started  to  go  home,  trotting  off  gaily  down 
the  mountain.  I  could  do  nothing  else  but  follow  him,  as 
the  narrow  cut  of  the  road  and  impenetrable  obstructions 
on  either  side  utterly  precluded  my  getting  past  to  head 
off  his  rascally  maneuvers.  Finally,  finding  a  nip  of  grass 
by  the  roadside,  the  gait  M-as  slackened  so  that  after  several 
futile  attempts  I  managed  to  get  a  firm  hold  of  his  tail, 
after  which  we  went  down  the  mountain  together,  much 
more  rapidly  than  we  had  come  up  the  evening  before. 
Bobby  forgot  to  use  his  heels,  else  he  might  for  a  longer 
time  been  master  of  the  situation.  The  fact  was,  he  did 
not  want  to  hurt  me,  but  was  determined  to  break  up  the 
partnership,  and,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  go  no  fur- 
ther into  the  mountains  where  he  could  not  get  a  supper. 
By  dint  of  persuasion  and  main  strength  of  muscle  the 
contest  was  finally  settled  in  my  favor,  and  I  secured  the 
rein.  Did  I  chastise  him?  Not  a  bit.  I  did  not  blame 
him.  We  were  partners,  but  it  was  a  one-sided  partner- 
ship, as  he  had  no  interest  in  the  enterprise  other  than  to 
get  enough  to  eat  as  we  went  along,  and  when  that  failed, 
rebelled. 


VeNTUKES    AM)    AnVENTUK'ES  137 

It  is  wonderful,  the  sagacity  of  the  horse  or  ox.  They 
know  more  than  we  usually  think  they  do.  Let  one  be 
associated  (yes,  that's  the  word,  associated)  with  tlieni  foi- 
a  season  alone.  Their  characteristics  come  to  the  front  and 
l)ecome  apparent  without  study.  Did  I  talk  to  my  friend 
l>ob])y?  Indeed,  I  did.  There  were  but  few  othei-  animate 
things  to  talk  to.  Perhaps  one  might  see  a  small  bird  flit 
across  the  vision  or  a  chipmunk,  or  hear  the  whirr  of  the 
sudden  flight  of  the  grouse,  but  all  else  was  solitude,  deep 
and  impressive.  The  dense  forest  through  which  I  was 
passing  did  not  supply  conditions  for  bird  or  animal  life 
in  profusion. 

"You  are  a  naughty  lad,  Bobby,"  I  said,  as  I  turned  his 
head  eastward  to  retrace  the  mile  or  so  of  the  truant's  run. 

We  were  soon  past  our  camping  ground  of  the  night  be- 
fore, and  on  our  way  up  the  mountain.  Bobby  would  not 
be  led,  or  if  he  was,  would  hold  back,  till  finally  making 
a  rush  up  the  steep  ascent,  would  be  on  my  heels  or  toes 
before  I  could  get  out  of  the  way.  "Go  ahead,  Bobby," 
I  would  say,  and  suiting  action  to  words  seize  the  tail  witli 
a  firm  grasp  and  follow.  When  he  moved  rapidly,  by  hold- 
ing on  1  was  helped  up  the  mountain.  When  he  slackened 
his  pace,  then  came  the  resting  spell.  The  engineering 
instinct  of  the  horse  tells  him  how  to  reduce  grades  by 
angles.  So  Bobby  led  me  up  the  mountain  in  ziz-zag 
courses,  I  following  always  with  the  firm  grasp  of  the  tail 
that  meant  we  would  not  part  company,  and  we  did  not. 
I  felt  that  it  was  a  mean  trick  to  compel  the  poor  brute 
to  pull  me  up  the  mountain  by  his  tail,  supperless,  break- 
fastless,  and  discontended.  It  appeared  to  me  it  w^as  just 
cause  to  sever  our  friendship,  which  by  this  time  seemed 
cemented  closely,  but  then  I  thought  of  the  attempted 
abandonment  he  had  been  guilty  of,  and  that  perhaps  he 
should  submit  to  some  indignities  at  ray  hand  in  conse- 
quence. 

By  noon  we  had  surmounted  all  obstacles,  and  stood  upon 
the  summit  prairie — one  of  them,  for  there  are  several — 
where  Bobby  feasted  to  his  heart's  content,  while  T — ^well. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  189 

it  was  tlie  samo  old  stoiy,  hard  lack  and  cheese.  Avitli  a 
small  allotment  of  dvied  venison. 

To  the  south,  apparently  hut  a  few  miles  distant,  the 
old  mountain,  Rainier  of  old,  Tacoma  by  Winthrop,  loomed 
up  into  the  clouds  full  ten  thousand  feet  higher  than  where 
I  stood,  a  grand  scene  to  behold,  worthy  of  all  the  effort 
expended  to  attain  this  view  point.  But  I  was  not  attuned 
to  view  with  ecstasy  the  grandeur  of  what  lay  before 
me,  but  rather  to  scan  the  horizon  to  ascertain,  if  I  could, 
what  the  morrow  might  bring  forth.  The  mountain  to 
the  pioneer  has  served  as  a  huge  barometer  to  forecast  the 
weather.  "How  is  the  mountain  this  morning?"  the 
fanner  asks  in  hain^'est  time.  "Has  the  mountain  got  his 
night  cap  on?"  the  housewife  inquires  before  her  wash  is 
hung  on  the  line.  The  Indian  would  watch  the  mountain 
with  intent  to  detemiine  whether  he  might  expect  "snass" 
(rain),  or  "kull  snass"  (hail),  or  "t'kope  snass"  (snow), 
and  seldom  failed  in  his  conclusions,  and  so  T  scanned  the 
mountain  top  that  day  partially  hid  in  the  clouds,  with 
the  forebodings  verified  at  nightfall,  as  will  be  related 
later. 

The  next  camp  w'as  in  the  Natchess  Canyon.  I  had 
lingered  on  the  summit  prairie  to  give  the  pony  a  chance 
to  till  up  on  the  luxuriant  but  rather  Avashy  grass,  there 
found  in  great  abundance.  For  myself,  I  had  had  plenty 
of  water,  but  had  been  stinted  in  hard  bread,  remember- 
ing my  experience  of  the  day  before,  with  the  famishing 
women  and  children.  I  began  to  realize  more  and  more 
the  seriousness  of  my  undertaking,  particularly  so  because 
I  could  hear  no  tidings.  A  light  snow  storm  came  on  just 
before  nightfall,  Avhich,  with  the  high  mountains  on  either 
side  of  the  river,  spread  approaching  darkness  rapidly.  I 
was  loth  to  camp ;  somehow  I  just  wanted  to  go  on,  and 
doubtless  would  have  traveled  all  night  if  I  could  have 
safely  found  my  way.  The  canyon  was  but  a  few  hundred 
yards  wide,  with  the  tortuous  river  first  striking  one  bluf¥ 
and  then  the  other,  necessitating  numerous  crossings;  the 
interv^ening  space  being  glade  land  of  large  pine  growth 


140  A  Bu.sY  Life 

with  })ut  light  iinth'i'gi'owth  and  few  fallen  trees.  The 
whoh?  surface  was  covered  with  coarse  sand,  in  which 
i-ounded  boulders  were  imbedded  so  thick  in  places  as  to 
cause  the  trail  to  be  very  indistinct,  particularly  in  o})en 
spots,  where  the  snow  had  fallen  unobstructed.  Finally, 
I  saw  that  I  must  camp,  and  after  crossing  the  river,  came 
out  in  an  opening  where  the  bear  tracks  were  so  thick  that 
one  could  readily  believe  the  spot  to  be  a  veritable  play- 
ground for  all  the  animals  I'ound  about. 

I  found  two  good  sized  trunks  of  trees  that  had  fallen; 
one  obliquely  across  the  other,  and,  with  my  pony  tethered 
as  a  sentinel  and  my  fire  as  an  advance  post  I  slept  soundly, 
I'ut  nearly  supperless.  The  black  bears  on  the  west  slope 
of  the  mountain  I  kncAV  were  timid  and  not  dangerous, 
but  I  did  not  know  so  much  about  the  mountain  species, 
and  can  but  confess  that  I  felt  lonesome,  though  placing 
great  reliance  upon  my  fire,  which  I  kept  burning  all  night. 

Early  next  morning  found  Bobby  and  me  on  the  trail, 
a  little  chilled  with  the  cold  mountain  air  and  very  willing 
to  travel.  In  a  hundred  yards  or  so,  we  came  upon  a  ford 
of  ice  cold  water  to  cross,  and  others  following  in  such 
quick  succession,  that  I  realized  that  we  were  soon  to  leave 
the  canyon.  I  had  been  told  that  at  the  32nd  crossing  I 
would  leave  the  canyon  and  ascend  a  high  mountain,  and 
then  travel  through  pint^  glades,  and  that  I  must  then  be 
careful  and  not  lose  the  trail.  I  had  not  kept  strict  account 
of  the  crossings  like  one  of  the  men  I  had  met,  who  cut  a 
notch  in  his  goad  stick  at  every  crossing,  but  I  knew  in- 
stinctively we  were  nearly  out,  and  so  I  halted  to  eat  what 
I  supposed  would  be  the  only  meal  of  the  day,  not  dream- 
ing what  lay  in  store  for  me  at  nightfall.  It  would  be 
uninteresting  to  the  general  reader  to  relate  the  details  of 
that  day's  travel,  and  in  fact  I  cannot  recall  much  about 
it  except  going  up  the  steep  mountain — so  steep  that  Bobby 
again  practiced  his  engineering  instincts  and  I  mine,  with 
my  selfish  hand  having  a  firm  hold  on  the  tail  of  my  now 
patient  comrade. 

From   the  to])  of  the   mountain  glade    I  looked  back   in 


VlONTITRKS    AND    A  I)VI';N'I'IIRES  141 

woiuleriiieiit  about  liow  the  iminigi'aiit.s  liad  taken  tlieii' 
wafj^oiis  (lowji;  I  found  out  by  experience  afterwards. 

Towartls  nightfall  I  found  a  welcome  sound  of  the 
tinkling  of  a  bell,  and  soon  saw  the  smoke  of  camp  fires, 
and  finally  the  village  of  tents  and  grime-covered  wagons. 
How  I  tugged  at  Bobby's  halter  to  make  him  go  faster, 
and  then  mounted  him  with  not  much  better  results,  can 
better  be  imagined  than  told. 

Could  it  be  the  camp  I  was  searching  for  ?  It  was  about 
the  number  of  wagons  and  tents  that  I  had  expected  to 
meet.  No.  I  was  doomed  to  disappointment,  yet  rejoiced 
to  find  some  one  to  camp  with  and  talk  to  other  than  the 
pony. 

It  is  not  easy  to  describe  tbe  cordial  greeting  accorded 
me  by  those  tired  and  almost  discouraged  immigrants.  1 1' 
we  had  been  near  and  dear  relatives,  the  rejoicing  could 
not  have  been  mutually  greater.  They  had  been  toiling 
for  nearly  five  months  on  the  road  across  the  plains,  and 
now  there  loomed  up  before  them  this  great  mountain 
range  to  cross.  Could  they  do  HI  If  we  cannot  get  over 
with  our  wagons,  can  Ave  get  the  women  and  children 
through  in  safety?  I  was  able  to  lift  a  load  of  doubt  and 
fear  from  off  their  jaded  minds.  Before  I  knew  what 
was  happening,  I  caught  the  fragrance  of  boiling  coffee 
and  of  fresh  meat  cooking.  It  seemed  the  good  matrons 
knew  without  telling  that  I  was  hungry  (T  doubtless  looked 
it),  and  had  set  to  work  to  prepare  me  a  meal,  a  sumptuous 
meal  at  that,  taking  into  account  the  whetted  appetite  inci- 
dent to  a  diet  of  hard  bread  straight,  and  not  much  of  that 
cither,  for  two  days. 

We  had  met  on  the  hither  bank  of  the  Yakima  River, 
where  the  old  trail  crosses  that  river  near  where  the 
.flourishing  city  of  North  Yakima  now  is.  These  were  the 
people,  a  part  of  them,  that  are  mentioned  elsewhere  in  my 
"Tragedy  of  Leschi,"  in  the  chapter  on  the  White  River- 
massacre.  Harvey  H.  Jones,  wife  and  three  children,  and 
George  E.  King,  wife  and  one  child.  One  of  the  little  boys 
of  the  camp  is  the  same  person — John  I.  King — who  has 


142  A  Busy  Lifk 

wi'itleii  tlie  graphic  account  of  the  tragedy  in  which 
his  mother  and  step-father  and  their  neighbors  lost 
their  lives — that  horrible  massacre  on  White  River  a  year 
later — and  the  other,  George  E.  King  (but  no  relation), 
the  little  five-year-old  who  was  taken  and  held  captive  for 
nearly  four  months,  and  then  safely  delivered  over  by  the 
Indians  to  the  military  authorities  at  Fort  Steilacoom.  I 
never  think  of  those  people  but  with  feelings  of  sadness; 
of  their  struggle,  doubtless  the  supreme  effort  of  their 
lives,  to  go  to  their  death.  I  pointed  out  to  them  where  to 
go  to  get  good  claims,  and  they  lost  no  time,  but  went 
straight  to  the  locality  recommended  and  immediately  to 
work,  preparing  shelter  for  the  winter. 

"Are  you  going  out  on  those  plains  alone?"  asked  Mrs. 
Jones,  anxiously.  When  I  informed  her  that  I  would  have 
the  pony  with  me,  a  faint,  sad  smile  spread  over  her  coun- 
tenance as  she  said,  "Well,  T  don't  think  it  is  safe."  Mr. 
Jones  explained  that  what  his  wife  referred  to  was  the 
danger  from  the  ravenous  wolves  that  infested  the  open 
country,  and  from  which  the.y  had  lost  weakened  stock 
from  their  bold  forages,  "right  close  to  the  camp,"  he 
said,  and  advised  me  not  to  camp  near  the  watering  places, 
but  up  on  the  high  ridge.  I  followed  his  advice  with  the 
result  as  we  shall  see  of  missing  my  road  and  losing  con- 
siderable time,  and  causing  me  not  a  little  trouble  and 
anxiety. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS — [CONTINUED.] 

The  start  for  the  high  table  desert  lands  bordering  the 
Yakima  Valley  cut  me  loose  from  all  communication,  for 
no  more  immigrants  were  met  until  I  reached  the  main 
traveled  route  beyond  the  Columbia  River.  T  speak  of 
the  "desert  lands"  adjacent  to  the  Yakima  from  the  stand- 
point of  that  day.  We  all  thought  these  lands  were  worth- 
less,  as  Avell  as  the  valley,   not   dreaming  of   the  untold 


Ventures  and  Adventures  143 

wealth  the  loucli  oi'  watci'  would  bring'  out.  Tlic  road 
lay  thi'ougii  a  torbiddiiig  sage  plain,  oi'  rather  an  midulal- 
ing  con  111  ry,  seemingly  of  shifting  sands  and  dead  grass  of 
(•.()in])aratively  scant  gro\rth.  As  the  sun  rose,  heat  became 
intolerable.  The  dnst  brought  vivid  memories  of  the  trip 
across  the  plains  in  places.  The  heated  air  trembling  in 
the  balance  brought  the  question  of  whether  or  not  some- 
thing was  the  matter  with  my  eyes  or  brain;  whether  this 
was  an  oi:)tical  illusion,  or  real,  became  a  debatable  ques- 
tion in  my  mind.  Strive  against  it  wdth  all  my  might,  my 
eyes  would  rest  on  the  farther  horizon  to  catch  the  glimpse 
of  the  expected  train,  till  they  fairly  ached.  Added  to 
this,  an  intolerable  thirst  seized  upon  me,  and  compelled 
leaving  the  road  and  descending  into  the  valley  for  water. 
Here  I  found  as  fat  cattle  as  ever  came  to  a  butcher 's  stall, 
fed  on  this  selfsame  dead  grass,  cured  without  i-ain.  These 
cattle  belonged  to  the  Indians,  but  there  were  no  Indians  in 
sight.  The  incident,  though,  set  me  to  thinking  about  the 
possibilities  of  a  country  that  could  produce  such  fat 
cattle  from  the  native  grasses.  I  must  not  linger  off  the 
trail,  and  take  chances  of  missing  the  expected  train,  and 
so  another  stretch  of  travel,  of  thirst,  and  suffering  came 
until  during  the  afternoon,  1  found  water  on  the  trail, 
and  tethered  my  pony  for  his  much  needed  dinner,  and 
opened  my  sack  of  hard  bread  to  count  the  contents,  with 
the  conclusion  that  my  store  was  half  gone,  and  so  lay 
down  in  the  shade  of  a  small  tree  or  bush  near  the  spring 
to  take  an  afternoon  nap.  Rousing  up  before  sun  dowai, 
refresiied,  we  (pony  and  I)  took  the  trail  in  a  much  better 
mood  than  before  the  nooning.  When  night  came,  I  could 
not  find  it  in  my  heart  to  camp.  The  cool  of  the  evening 
invigorated  the  pony,  and  we  pushed  on.  With(  ut  having 
intended  to  travel  in  the  night,  I  had,  so  to  speak,  drifted 
into  it  and  finding  the  road  could  be  followed,  though  but 
dimly  seen,  kept  on  the  trail  until  a  late  hour,  when  I  un- 
saddled and  hobbled  the  pony.  The  saddle  blanket  was 
brought  into  use,  and  I  was  soon  oi¥  in  dream  land,  and 
forgot  all  about  the  dust,  the  trail  or  the  morrow. 


144  A  Busy  Life 

Moniing  broiiglil  a  i)uzz!iiig  sense  of  helplessness  that 
for  the  time,  seemed  overpowering.  I  had  slept  late,  and 
awoke  to  find  the  pony  had  wandered  far  off  on  the  hill 
side,  in  fact,  so  far,  it  iMiainired  close  scanning  to  discover 
him.  To  make  matters  worse,  his  hobbles  had  become 
loosened,  giving  him  free  use  of  all  his  feet,  and  in  no  mood 
to  take  the  trail  again.  C-oaxing  was  of  no  avail,  driving 
would  do  no  good,  so  end)racing  an  apportnnity  to  seize 
his  tail  again,  we  went  aromid  about  over  the  plain  and 
through  the  sage  brush  in  a  rapid  gait,  which  finally  less- 
ened and  I  again  became  master  of  him.  For  the  life  of 
me  I  could  not  be  sure  as  to  the  direction  of  the  trail,  but 
happened  to  tsfke  the  right  course.  When  the  trail  was 
found,  the  question  came  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the 
saddle.  It  so  happened  that  I  took  the  wrong  direction  and 
had  to  retrace  my  steps.  The  sun  was  high  when  we  started 
on  our  journey. 

A  few  hundred  yards  travel  brought  feelings  of  uneasi- 
ness, as  it  was  evident  that  we  were  not  on  the  regular 
trail.  Not  knowing  but  this  was  some  cut  off,  so  continued 
until  the  Columbia  River  bluff  was  reached,  and  the  great 
river  was  in  sight,  half  a  mile  distant,  and  several  hun- 
dred feet  of  lower  level  Taking  a  trail  down  the  bluff' 
that  seemed  more  promising  than  the  wagon  tracks,  1  be- 
gan to  search  for  the  road  at  the  foot  of  the  bluff  to  find 
the  tracks  scattered,  and  any  resemblance  of  a  road  gone; 
in  a  word,  1  was  lost.  I  never  knew  how  those  wagon 
tracks  came  to  be  there,  but  I  know  that  1  lost  more  than 
a  half  day's  precious  time,  and  again  was  thrown  in  a 
doubting  mood  as  to  whether  1  had  missed  the  long  sought 
for  train. 

The  next  incident  1  remember  vividly,  was  my  attempt  to 
cross  the  Columbia  just  below  the  mouth  of  Snake  River. 
I  had  seen  but  few  Indians  on  the  whole  trip,  and  in  fact, 
the  camp  I  found  there  on  the  bank  of  the  great  river  was 
the  first  1  distinctly  remember.  I  could  not  induce  them 
to  cross  me  over.  From  some  cause  they  seemed  surly  and 
unfriendly.     The  treatment  was  so  in  contrast  to  what  1 


Vl'^NTURKS    AND    AdVKNTITRES  145 

luul  icft'ivetl  I'l-om  tlie  Indians  on  the  Sound,  that  I  coukl 
not  help  wondering  what  it  meant.  No  one,  to  my  knowl- 
edge, lost  his  life  by  the  hands  of*  tin;:  Indians  thai  sea- 
son, hnt  the  next  snivnner  all,  or  nearly  all,  were  i-utliicssly 
nnirdered  tliat  ventured  into  that  couiiti-y  unproleeted. 

That  iiig-ht  1  caniped  late,  opi)osite  Wallula  (old  Fort 
Walla  Walla),  in  a  sand  storm  of  great  fury.  I  tethered 
my  pony  this  time,  rolled  myself  up  in  the  blanket,  only 
to  find  myself  fairly  buried  in  the  drifting  sand  in  the 
morning.  It  required  a  great  effort  to  creep  out  of  the 
blanket,  and  greater  work  fo  relieve  the  blanket  from  the 
accunuilated  sand.  By  this  time  the  -wind  had  laid  and 
comparative  calm  prevailed,  and  then  came  the  effort  to 
make  myself  heard  across  the  wide  river  to  the  people  of 
the  fort.  It  did  seem  as  though  I  would  fail.  Travel- 
ing up  and  down  the  river  bank  for  half  mile,  or  so,  in  the 
hope  of  catching  a  favorable  breeze;  to  carry  my  voice  to 
the  fort,  yet,  all  to  no  avail.  I  sat  upon  the  bank  hopeless- 
ly discouraged,  not  knowing  what  to  do.  I  think  I  nuist 
iiave  been  two  hours  halloaing  at  the  top  of  my  voice  until 
hoarse  from  the  violent  effort.  Finally,  while  sitting  there, 
cogitating  as  to  what  to  do,  I  spied  a  blue  smoke  arising 
from  the  cabin,  and  soon  after  a  man  appeared  who  im- 
mediately responded  to  my  renewed  efforts  to  attract  at- 
tention. The  trouble  had  been  they  were  all  asleep,  while 
I  was  in  the  early  morning  expending  my  breath. 

Shirley  Ensign,  of  (Mympia,  had  established  a  ferry 
across  the  Columbia  River,  and  had  yet  lingered  to  set  over 
belated  innnigrants,  if  any  came.  Mr.  Ensign  came  over 
and  gave  me  glad  tidings.  He  had  been  out  on  the  trail 
fifty  miles  or  more,  and  had  met  my  people,  whom  he 
thought  were  camped  some  thirty  miles  away,  and  thought 
that  they  woidd  reach  the  ferry  on  the  following  day. 
But  I  would  not  wait,  and,  procuring  a  fresh  horse,  I 
started  out  in  a  cheerful  mood,  detennined  to  reach  camp 
that  night  if  my  utmost  exertions  would  accomplish  it. 
Sundown  came  and  no  signs  of  camp;  dusk  came  on,  and 
still  no  signs;  finally,  I  spied  some  cattle  grazing  on  the 
1 1— 1958 


14G  A  Bnsv  Life 

upland,  and  soon  eamo  ui)()n  the,  c.aiup  in  a  i-avine  that 
had  sliiit  them  out  From  view.  Rejoieings  and  outbursts 
of  jj'i'iel'  foih)\vc(l.  I  iii(|iii]-ed  foi-  my  mother  tiie  first  tinng. 
She  was  not  there;  liad  been  buried  in  the  sands  of  the 
l^hitte  Valley,  months  before ;  also  a  younger  brother  lay 
buried  near  Independence  Rock.  The  scene  that  followed 
is  of  too  sacred  memory  to  \vrite  about,  and  we  will  draw 
the  veil  of  privacy  over  it. 

Of  that  party,  all  are  under  the  sod  save  one — Mrs. 
Amanda  C.  Spinning,  then  the  wife  of  the  elder  brother 
so  often  heretofore  mentioned. 

With  fifty  odd  head  of  stock,  seven  wagons,  and  seventeen 
l^eople,  the  trip  was  made  to  the  Sound  without  serious 
mishap  or  loss.  We  were  twenty-two  days  on  the  road, 
and  thought  this  was  good  time  to  make,  all  things  con- 
sidered. Provisions  were  abundant,  the  health  of  the  party 
good  and  stock  in  fair  condition.  I  unhesitatingly  advised 
the  over-mountain  trip;  meanwhile  cautioning  them  to  ex- 
pect some  snow,  a  goodly  amount  of  hard  labor,  and  plenty 
of  vexation.  How  long  wHl  it  take  ?  '^Phree  weeks.  Why, 
we  thought  we  were  about  througli.  Well,  you  came  to  stay 
with  us,  did  you  ?  But  what  about  the  little  ^vife  and  the 
two  babies  on  the  island  home?  Father  said  some  one 
must  go  and  look  after  them.  So,  the  elder  brother  was 
detailed  to  go  to  the  island  folks,  whilst  I  w'as  impressed 
iiito  service  to  take  his  place  with  the  immigrants.  It  would 
hardly  be  interestijig  to  tlie  general  reader  to  give  a  de- 
tailed account,  even  if  I  remembered  it  well,  which  I  do 
not.  So  intent  did  we  all  devote  our  energies  to  the  one 
object,  to  get  safely  over  the  mountains,  that  all  else  wa.s 
foi'gotten.  It  was  a  period  of  severe  toil  and  anxious 
care,  but  not  more  so  than  to  others  that  had  gone  before 
us,  and  what  others  had  done  we  felt  we  could  do,  but 
there  was  no  eight-hour-a-day  labor,  nor  any  drones;  all 
were  workers.  I  had  prepared  the  minds  of  the  newcomers 
for  the  worst,  not  forgetting  the  steep  hills,  the  notched 
logs,  and  rough,  stony  fords,  by  telling  the  whole  story. 
''But  do  \-ou  I'eallv  lliiiik'  we  can  get  throus'h?"  said  father. 


Vknti'rks  and  Adventures  147 

"Yes,  I  know  we  can.  if  every  man  will  ])ut.  his  slioulder  to 
the  Avheel. "  This  latter  expression  was  a  phrase  in  use  to 
indicate  doing  one's  duty  without  flinching,  ])ut  in  tliis 
case,  it  had  a  more  literal  meaning,  foi'  we  were  compelled 
often  tO'  take  hold  of  the  wheels  to  boost  the  wagons  over 
logs,  and  ease  them  down  on  the  opposite  side,  as  likewise, 
on  the  steep  mountain  side.  We  divided  our  force  into 
groups;  one  to  eacli  wagon  to  drive,  four  as  wheelmen,  as 
we  called  them,  and  father  with  the  women  folks  on  foot, 
or  on  horseback,  with  the  stuck. 

God  bless  the  women  folks  of  the  plains;  the  immigrant 
women,  I  mean.  A  nobler,  braver,  more  uncomplaining 
people  were  never  known.  I  have  often  thought  that  some 
one  ought  to  write  a  just  tribute  to  their  valor  and  pa- 
tience ;  a  book  of  their  heroic  deeds.  I  know  this  word 
valor  is  supposed  to  ai:)ply  to  men  and  not  to  women,  but 
I  know  that  the  immigrant  women  earned  the  right  to  have 
the  word,  and  all  it  implies,  a])plied  to  them.  Such  a  trip 
with  all  its  trials  is  almost  worth  the  price  to  bring  out 
these  latent  virtues  of  the  so-called  weaker  sex.  Strive, 
however,  as  best  we  could,  we  were  unable  to  make  the  trip 
in  the  allotted  time,  and  willing  hands  came  out  with  the 
brother  to  put  their  shoulders  to  the  wheels,  and  to  bring 
the  glad  tidings  that  all  was  well  on  the  island  home,  and 
to  release  the  younger  brother  and  the  father  from  further 
duty,  when  almost  through  to  the  settlements. 
.  Do  you  say  this  was  enduring  great  hardships?  That 
depends  upon  the  point  of  view.  As  to  this  return  trip, 
for  myself,  I  can  truly  say  that  it  was  not.  I  enjoyed  the 
strife  to  overcome  all  difficulties,  and  so  did  the  greater 
number  of  the  company.  They  felt  that  it  was  a  duty  and 
enjoyed  doing  their  duty.  Many  of  them,  it  is  true,  were 
weakened  by  the  long  trip  across  the  Plains,  but  with  the 
better  food  obtainable,  and  the  goal  so  near  at  hand,  there 
was  a  positive  pleasure  to  pass  over  the  miles,  one  by  one, 
and  become  assured  that  final  success  was  only  a  matter 
of  a  very  shoi-t.  time. 

One  day.  we  encountered  a  new  fallen  tree,  as  one  of  the 


148  A  Bu8Y  Life 

men  said,  a  ^\■hol)pe^^  cocked  up  on  its  own  ui)tiirned  roots, 
four  feet  from  the  uronnd.  Go  around  it,  we  could  not ; 
to  cut  it  out  seemed  an  endless  task  with  our  dulled,  flimsy 
saw.  Dig-  dowai,  boys,  said  the  father,  and  in  short  order 
every  available  shovel  was  out  of  the  wagons  and  into  will- 
ing hands,  with  others  standing  by  to  take  their  turn.  In 
a  short  time  the  way  was  open  fully  four  feet  deep,  and 
oxen  and  wagons  passed  through  under  the  obstruction. 


CHAPTER  XXllI. 

TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS — [CONTINUED.] 

People  now  traversing  what  is  popularity  known  as  Nis- 
qually  Plains,  that  is,  the  stretch  of  open  prairie,  inter- 
spersed with  clumps  of  timber,  sparkling  lakes,  and  glade 
lands,  from  the  heavy  timber  bordering  the  Puyallup  to  a 
like  border  of  the  Nisqually,  will  hardly  realize  that  once 
upon  a  time  these  bare  gravelly  prairies  supplied  a  rich 
grass  of  exceeding  fattening  quality  and  of  sufficient  quan- 
tity to  support  many  thousand  head  of  stock,  and  not  only 
support  but  fatten  them  ready  for  the  butcher's  stall. 
Nearly  half  a  million  acres  of  this  land  lie  between  the 
two  rivers,  from  two  to  four  hundred  feet  above  tide  level 
and  beds  of  the  rivers  mentioned,  unduhiting  and  in 
l)c'nches,  an  ideal  part  of  shade  and  open  land  of  rivulets 
and  lakes,  of  natural  roads  and  natural  scenery  of  splendor. 

So,  when  our  little  train  emerged  from  the  forests  skirt- 
ing the  Puyallup  Valley,  and  came  out  on  the  open  at  Mont- 
gomery's,  afterwards  Camp  Montgomery,  of  Indian  war 
times,  twelve  miles  southeasterly  of  Fort  Steilaeoom,  the 
experience  was  almost  as  if  one  had  come  into  a  noonday 
sun  from  a  dungeon  prison,  so  marked  was  the  contrast. 
Hundreds  of  cattle,  sheep  and  horses  were  (piietly  graz- 
ing, scattered  over  the  landscape,  so  far  as  one  could  see, 
fat  and  content.  It  is  not  to  be  w^ondered  that  the  spirits 
of  the  tired  pai-ty  should  rise  as  they  saw  this  scene  of 


Ventures  and  Adventuues  149 

content.  Ijeforc  tlieni,  and  tli()ii<iflit  tliey  could  becoiiie  partici- 
pants with  t]ios(!  wlio  li.ul  cotiic  before  them,  and  that  for 
the  moment  rest  was  theirs  if  that  was  wliat  they  might 
choose. 

Fort  Nisciually  was  about  ten  mih's  southwesterly  from 
our  camp  at  Montgomery's,  built,  as  mentioned  elsewhere, 
by  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  in  1833. 

In  1840-41,  this  company's  holdings  at  Nisqually  and 
Cowlitz  were  transferred  to  the  Puget  Sound  Agricultural 
Company.  This  latter  conipany  was  organized  in  London 
at  the  instance  of  Dr.  William  F.  Tolmie.  who  visited  that 
city  to  conduct  the  negotiations  in  person  with  the  directors 
of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  He  returned  clothed  wdth 
the  power  to  conduct  the  alfairs  of  the  new  company,  but 
under  the  direction  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  and  with 
the  restriction  not  to  enter  into  or  interfere  with  the  fur 
trade ;  he  later  became  the  active  agent  of  both  companies 
at  Nisqually. 

It  w^as  principally  the  stock  of  this  company  that  we  saw 
from  our  camp  and  nearby  points.  At  that  time,  the  Agri- 
cultural Company  had  several  farms  on  these  plains,  con- 
siderable pasture  land  enclosed,  and  fourteen  thousand 
head  of  stock  running  at  large;  sheep  cattle  and  horses. 

The  United  States  government  actually  paid  rent  to  this 
foreign  company  for  many  years  for  the  site  where  Fort 
Steilacoom  was  located  on  account  of  the  shadowy  title  of 
the  company  under  the  treaty  of  1846. 

Dui'ing  this  lapse  of  time,  from  1833  to  the  time  our 
camp  was  established,  many  of  the  company's  servants' 
time  had  expired  and  in  almost  every  case,  such  had  taken 
to  theinselves  Indian  wives  and  had  squatted  on  the  choice 
locations  for  grazing  or  small  farming.  Montgomery 
himself,  near  whose  premises  we  were  camping,  w^as  one 
of  these.  A  few  miles  to  the  south  of  this  place,  ran  the 
.small  creek  "Muck,"  on  the  surface  for  several  miles  to 
empty  into  the  Nisqually.  Along  this  little  creek,  others 
of  these  discharged  servants  had  settled,  and  all  taken  In- 


150  A  Busy  Life 

dian  wivos.  Theses  were  tlie  settlers  that  were  afterwards 
(leiiouiiced  by  Governor  Stevens,  and  tiiially  an-ested  for 
alles'ed  treason.  Eaeli  of  these  had  an  abundance  of  stock 
and  farm  produce,  and  was  living  in  affluence  and  comfort. 
One  of  them,  i-eputed  to  be  the  rightful  owner  of  thirteen 
cows,  one  sunnner  raised  thirty-three  calves,  the  handy 
lasso  rope  having  been  brought  into  play  among  the  com- 
pany's herds  in  secluded  places:  yet,  as  the  rale,  these 
people  were  honorable,  upright  men,  though  as  a  class,  not 
of  high  intelligence,  or  of  sober  habits. 

Added  to  this  class  just  mentioned,  was  another;  the 
discharged  TTnited  States  soldiers.  The  men  then  compris- 
ing the  United  States  army  were  far  lower  in  moral  worth 
and  character  than  now.  Many  of  these  men  had  also  taken 
Indian  wives  and  settled  where  they  had  chosen  to  select. 
Added  to  these  were  a  goodly  number  of  the  previous 
years'  immigrants.  By  this  recital  the  reader  will  be  ap- 
prised of  the  motley  mess  our  little  party  were  destined  to 
settle  among,  unless  they  should  chose  to  go  to  other  parts 
of  the  Territory.  I  did  not  myself  fully  realize  the  com- 
plications to  be  met  until  later  years. 

All  this  while,  as  we  have  said,  settlers  were  crowding 
into  this  district,  taking  up  donation  claims  until  that  act 
expired  by  limitation  in  1854,  and  afterward  by  squatter's 
rights,  whicli  to  all  appearances,  seemed  as  good  as  any. 
My  own  donation  claim  afterwards  was  involved  in  this 
controversy,  in  common  with  many  others.  Although  our 
proofs  of  settlement  were  made  and  all  requirements  of  the 
law  complied  with,  nevertheless,  our  patents  were  held  up 
and  our  title  questioned  for  twenty  year-s,  and  so,  after 
having  made  the  trip  across  the  Plains,  because  Thicle  Sam 
had  promised  to  give  us  all  a  farm,  and  aftei-  having  made 
the  required  improvements  and  resided  on  tlie  land  for  the 
four  years,  then  to  be  crowded  off  witliont  title  did  seem 
a  little  rough  on  the  pioneers. 

I  have  before  me  one  of  the  notices  served  upon  tlie 
settlers   by   the    company's   agent    which    tells    the    whole 


ViONTlJRES    AND    ADVENTURES  151 

stoi'v.*  Tlie  then  tlirivin^  town  of  Steilacooni  was  in- 
volved, ns  likewise  part  of  tlie  lands  set  apart  for  the  In- 
dian Iveservation,  and  it  did  seem  as  though  it  wouhl  he 
liai'd  to  get  a  more  thorough  niix-up  as  to  tith's  of  the 
land,  than  these  knotty  questions  presented. 

All  this  while,  as  was  natural  there  should  be,  there  was 
constant  friction  between  some  settler  and  the  company, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  superior  tact  of  such  a  man  as 
Dr.  Tolmie  in  charge  of  the  company's  affairs,  there  would 
have  been  serious^trouble. 

As  it  was,  there  tinally  came  a  show  of  arms  when  the 
company  undertook  to  survey  the  boundary  line  to  in- 
close the  land  claimed,  although  the  acreage  was  much 
less  than  claimed  on  paper.  But  the  settlers,  (or  some  of 
them),  rebelled,  and  six  of  them  went  armed  to  the  party 
of  surveyors  at  work  and  finally  stopped  them.  An  old- 
time  friend,  John  McLeod,  was  one  of  the  party  (mob, 
the  company  called  it),  but  the  records  do  not  show  whether 
he  read  his  chapter  in  the  Bible  that  clay,  or  whether  in- 
stead, he  took  a  double  portion  of  whiskey  to  relieve  his 
conscience. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  old  man  thought  he  was  do- 
ing wrong  or  thought  anything  about  it,  except  that  he 
had  a  belief  that  somehow  or  other  a  survey  might  make 
against  him  getting  a  title  to  his  own  claim. 

I  had  a  similar  experience  at  a  later  date  with  the  In- 
dians near  the  Muckleshute  Reservation,  while  attempting 

*  ORIGINAL  WARNING  TO  THOMAS  HADLEY. 

We  hereby  certify  that  a  correct  copy  of  the  within  notice  was  presented  to  T .  Harllev 
by  Mr.  Wm.  CJreig  this  6th  day  of  April,  1857. 

William  Gheig. 

Alfred  McNeill. 

Ambrose  Skinner. 

Nisqually,  W.  T.,  12th  March,  1857. 
To  Mr.  Thomas  Hadley. — Sir:  I  hereby  warn  you  that,  in  cultivating  land  and 
making  other  improvements  on  your  present  location  in  or  near  the  Talentire  precinct. 
Pierce  County,  Washington  Territory,  you  are  trespassing  on  the  lands  confirmed  to  the 
Puget's  Sound  .Agricultural  Company  by  the  Boundary  Treaty,  ratified  in  July,  1846. 
between  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States  of  America.    Very  Respectfully, 

Your  Obed't  Servt., 

W.  F.TOLMIE, 

Agent  Puget's  Sound  .Agricultural  Company. 


152  A  Busy  Life 

to  extend  the  sub-divisional  lines  of  the  township  near 
whei'c  tlie  resci-vc;  Wtis  located.  I  could  not  convince  1lie 
Indians  that  the  sui-vey  meant  no  harm  to  tluiii. 

The  ease  was  ditt'erent  in  the  fifst  instance,  as  in  fact, 
ueithei-  luirty  was  acting  within  the  limits  of  their  legal 
rights,,  and  for  the  time  being,  the  strongest  and  most 
belligerent  prevailed,  but  only  to  be  circiunvented  at  a 
little  later  date  by  a  secret  completion  of  the  work,  suffi- 
cient to  platting  the  whole. 

All  this  while  the  little  party  was  halting.  The  father 
said  the  island  home  would  not  do,  and  as  he  had  come 
two  thousand  miles  to  live  neighbors,  I  must  give  up  my 
claim  and  take  another  near  theirs,  and  so,  abandoning 
over  a  year's  hard  work,  I  acted  upon  his  request  with  the 
result  told  elsewhere,  of  fleeing  from  our  new  chosen  home, 
as  we  supposed,  to  save  our  lives,  upon  the  outbreak  of 
the  Indian  War  in  two  years  from  the  time  of  the  camp 
mentioned. 

One  cau  readily  see  that  these  surroiuidings  did  not 
promise  that  compact,  staid  settlement  of  energetic,  wide 
awake  pioneers  we  so  coveted,  nevertheless,  the  promise 
of  money  returns  was  good,  and  that  served  to  allay  any 
discontent  that  would  otherwise  arise.  I  remember  the 
third  year  we  began  selling  eighteen  months'  old  steers 
at  fifty  dollars  each,  off  the  range  that  had  never  been  fed 
a  morsel.  Our  butter  sold  for  fifty  cents  a  pound,  and  at 
times,  seventy-five  cents,  and  many  other  things  at  like 
prices.  No  wonder  all  hands  soon  became  contented;  did 
not  have  time  to  be  otherwise. 

It  came  about  though,  that  we  were  in  considerable  part 
a  community  within  ourselves,  yet,  there  were  many  ex- 
cellent i)e(>ple  in  the  widely  scattered  settlements.  The  con- 
ditions to  some  extent  encouraged  lawlessness,  and  ^vithi^ 
the  class  already  mentioned,  a  good  deal  of  di*unkenness 
and  what  one  might  well  designate  as  loose  morals,  incident 
to  the  surroundings.     A  case  in  point: 

A  true,  though  one  might  say  a  humorous  story  is  lold 
on  Doctoi'  Tolmie,  oi-  one  of  his  men,  of  visiting  a  settlor 


Ventures  and  Adventures  158 

whei'c  they  knew  one  of  their  beeves  had  been  slaughtei-cd 
and  appropriated.  To  get  direct  evidence  he  put  himself 
in  tlie  way  of  an  invitation  to  dinner,  where,  sure  enough, 
the  fresh,  fat  beef  was  smoking  on  the  table.  The  good 
old  pioneei"  (I  knew  him  well)  asked  a  good,  old-fashioiK'd 
Methodist  blessing  over  the  meat,  giving  thanks  foi-  the 
bountiful  supply  of  the  many  good  things  of  the  world 
vouchsafed  to  him  and  his  neighbors,  and  thereupon  in 
true  pioneer  hospitality,  cut  a  generous  sized  piece  of  the 
i-oast  for  his  guest,  the  real  owner  of  the  meat. 

This  incident  occurred  just  as  here  related,  and  although 
the  facts  are  as  stated,  yet  we  nnist  not  be  too  ready  to 
scoff  at  our  religious  friend  and  condemn  him  without  a 
hearing.  To  me,  it  would  have  been  just  as  direct  thie\dng 
as  any  act  could  have  been,  and  yet,  to  our  sanctified  friend 
[  think  it  was  not,  and  upon  which  thereby  hangs  a  tale. 

Many  of  the  .settlers  looked  upon  the  company  as  inter- 
lopers, pure  and  simple,  without  any  rights  they  were 
bound  to  respect.  There  had  been  large  numbers  of  cattle 
and  sheep  run  on  the  range  and  had  eaten  the  feed  down, 
which  they  thought  was  robbing  them  of  their  right  of 
eminent  domain  for  the  land  they  claimed  the  government 
had  promised  to  give  them. 

The  cattle  became  very  wild,  in  great  part  on  account 
of  the  settlers'  actions,  but  the  curious  part  was  they  after- 
wards justified  themselves  from  the  fact  that  they  were 
wild,  and  so  it  happened  there  came  very  near  being  claim 
of  common  property  of  the  company's  stock,  with  not  a  few 
of  the  settlers. 

One  lawless  act  is  almost  vSure  to  breed  another,  and  there 
was  no  exception  to  the  rule  in  this  strange  community, 
and  many  is  the  settler  that  can  remember  the  disap- 
pearance of  stock  which  could  be  accounted  for  in  but  one 
way — gone  with  the  company's  herd.  In  a  few  years, 
though,  all  this  disappeared.  The  incoming  immigrants 
from  across  the  plains  were  a  sturdy  set  as  a  class,  and 
soon  frowned  down  such  a  loose  code  of  morals. 

For  the  moment  let  us  turn  to  the  little  camp  on  the 


154  A  Busy  Life 

edge  of  the  prairie,  of  seven  wagons  and  three  tents.  Thei-e 
came  a  time  it  mnst  be  broken  np.  No  more  camp  fires, 
M'itli  the  fragrant  coffee  morning  and  (evening:  no  more 
smoking  the  pipe  together  over  jests,  or  serious  talk;  no 
more  tncks  in  the  dresses  of  the  ladies,  competed  first  by 
the  exigencies  of  daily  travel  and  now  to  be  parted  with 
nnder  the  inexorable  law  of  custom  or  fashion;  no  more 
Inmps  of  butter  at  night,  churned  during  the  day  by  the 
movement  of  wagon  and  the  can  containing  the  morning's 
milk.  We  must  hie  us  off  to  prepare  shelter  from  the 
coming  storms  of  winter :  to  the  care  of  the  stock ;  the 
preparations  for  planting:  to  the  beginning  of  a  new  life 
of  independence. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

TRIP    THROUGH    THE    NATCHESS    PASS — [CONTINUED.] 

It  almost  goes  without  saying,  that  before  the  final  break 
up  of  the  camp  and  separation  of  the  parties  tliere  mnst 
be  some  sort  of  celebration  of  the  event,  a  sort  of  house 
warming  or  surprise  party — something  must  be  done  out 
of  the  usual  course  of  events.  So,  what  better  could  these 
people  do  than  to  visit  the  island*  home  they  had  heard 
so  much  about,  and  see  for  themselves  some  of  the  wonder 
land  described. 

My  cabin  stood  on  the  south  side  of  the  bight  or  lagoon 
within  stone  throw  of  where  the  United  States  penitentiary 
now  stands  and  only  a  few  feet  above  high  tide  level.  The 
lagoon  widens  and  deepens  from  the  entrance  and  curves 
to  the  south  with  gentle  slope  on  either  side,  the  whole 
forming  a  miniature  sheltered  valley  of  light,  timbered, 
fertile  land.  On  the  higher  levels  of  the  receding  shore, 
great  quantities  of  salal  and  high  bush  huckle]>erries  grew 
in  profusion,  interspersed  with  what  for  lack  of  a  better 
name  we  called  Sweet  Bay,  the  i)erfum(\s  from  the  leaves 
of  which  permeated  the  atmosphere  for  long  distances.     In 

*McNeil  Island,  twelve  miles  westerly  as  the  crowlflics  from  Tacoma. 


Venturrs  and  Adventures  155 

the  nearby  front  a  lone:  flat  or  sandy  beach  extended  far 
out  fi-om  the  liiyh  tide  lino  wliei-e  the  clams  spouted  in 
coiiiitlcss  iiuiiiliers,  and  crows  played  their  antics  of  bi-cak- 
iu^-  the  shell  by  dropping  to  the  stony  beach  the  helpless 
bivahe  they  had  stealthily  clutched  and  taken  to  flight 
with  them. 

Off  to  the  eastward  and  three  miles  distant  the  town  of 
Steilaeoom,  or  rather  the  two  towns,  loomed  up  like  quite 
a  city,  on  the  ascending  slope  of  the  shore,  to  make  us 
feel  after  all  we  were  not  so  far  off  from  civilization,  par- 
ticularly at  the  time  as  two  or  more  deep  sea  vessels  (ships 
we  called  them),  were  in  port  discharging  merchandise. 
Southeasterly,  the  grand  mountain,  before  mentioned,  rose 
so  near  three  miles  high  above  the  tide  level  that  that  was 
the  height  spoken  by  all  and  as  being  fifty  miles  distant. 

Nisqually  House,  on  the  arm  of  the  bay  known  as  Nis- 
([ually  Beach,  five  miles  distant,  could  be  seen  in  clear 
weather,  while  the  Hudson  I)ay  Fort  of  that  name  was 
hidden  from  \aew  by  intervening  timber,  two  miles  easterly 
from  the  beach. 

The  Medieiue  Creek  council  grounds,  afterwards  made 
famous  by  the  treaty  council  held  a  few  months  later  than 
the  date  of  which  1  am  ^vi-iting,  lay  across  the  Nisqually 
tide  flats,  south  from  Nisqually  House,  near  three  miles 
distant,  but  the  view  of  this  was  cut  off  by  an  intervening 
island  (Anderson),  of  several  sections  in  extent,  and  of 
varying  elevations  to  a  maximum  of  near  four  hundred 
feet. 

Fortunately  one  of  those  ''spells"  of  weather  had  settled 
over  the  whole  country,  a  veritable  Indian  Summer,  though 
now  bordering  on  the  usually  stormy  month  of  November, 
a  little  hazy,  just  enough  to  lend  enchantment  to  the  land- 
scape, and  warm  enough  to  add  pleasurable  experience  to 
the  trip  the  little  party  was  to  make.  Add  to  these  sur- 
roundings the  smooth  glassy  waters  of  the  bay,  interspersed 
here  and  there  by  streaks  and  spots  of  troubled  water  to 
vary  the  outlook,  small  wonder  that  enthusiasnn  ran  high 
as  the  half-rested   immigrants  ne^red  the   cabin  in   their 


150  A  B1J8Y  Life 

boat  and  caiide,  chartered  for  tlie  trip,  piloted  and  paddled 
by  the  Indians  and  siij)pleineiited  by  tb(!  awkward  sti'oke 
of  the  bmdhibber's  oar. 

"What  in  the  world  are  we  going"  to  do  willi  all  tliese 
people  V  1  said  to  the  little  wife,  half  apologetically,  partly 
quizzical  and  yet  with  a  tinge  of  earnestness  illy  concealed. 

' '  Oh,  never  mind,  we  will  get  along  all  right  some  way ; 
]  '11  venture  father  has  brought  a  tent."  And  sure  enough, 
the  party  had  brought  the  three  tents  that  had  served 
them  so  well  for  so  long  a  time,  on  the  long  journey,  and 
much  of  their  bedding  also. 

Father  had  been  over  to  the  cabin  before,  and  taken  the 
measurement. 

"Eighteen  feet  square,"  he  said,  "that's  a  pretty  good 
size,  but  I  don't  see  why  you  boys  didn't  build  it  higher; 
it's  scant  seven  feet." 

Yes,  the  walls  were  but  seven  feet  high.  When  building, 
the  logs  ran  out,  the  sky  was  threatening  and  we  had  a 
race  with  the  storm  to  get  a  roof  over  our  lieads. 

"But  that's  a  good  fireplace,"  he  continued;  "there 
must  be  pretty  good  clay  here  to  hold  these  round  stones 
so  firmly.  And  that's  as  good  a  cat-and-clay  chimney  as 
I  bad  in  Ohio,  only  mine  was  taller,  but  I  don't  see  that 
it  would  di-aw  any  better  than  this."  This  one  was  just 
nine  feet  liigh,  but  T  said  tbere  was  plenty  of  room  to  build 
it  higher. 

The  floor  was  rough  lumber,  or  bad  been  when  laid,  but 
the  stiff  scrub  brush  of  twigs  and  strong  arms  of  house 
cleaners  had  worn  off  the  rough  till  when  cleaned  it  pre- 
sented a  (|uite  creditable  appearance.  And  the  walls! 
"Why.  you  have  a  good  library  on  these  walls:  all  the 
I'cadiiig  mattei-  right  side  up,  too;  the  Tribune  is  a  great 
l)aper,  indeed;  you  must  have  sent  for  it  right  away  when 
you  got  here,"  and  so  I  had,  and  contiiuied  steadily  for 
eighteen  years,  and  thereby  hangs  a  tale,  which,  though 
a  digi'(^ssion,  T  will  tell  before  writing  more  about  our 
visitors. 

1^'iighleen  yeai's  after  my  an-ival   fi'oiii  across  llic  |)lains 


Ventiirks  and  AnviwriTREs  IHT 

ill  Oetolioi',  1(S52,  I  made  my  first  trip  to  the  "States,"  to 
our  old  lionie  and  to  Ne^v  York.  I  had  to  go  through  the 
mud  to  the  Columbia  River,  then  out  over  the  dreaded  bar 
to  the  Paeifie  Ocean,  and  to  San  Francisco,  then  on  a  seven 
days'  journey  over  tlie  Central,  Union  Pacific  and  connect- 
ing lines  and  sit  bolt  ujjright  all  the  way — no  sleeper  cars 
then,  no  diners  either,  that  I  remember  seeing.  I  remem- 
ber I  started  from  Olympia  on  this  trip  the  first  week  in 

December.     Mr. Woodward  of  Olympia  suggested 

that  we  gather  all  Jhe  varieties  of  flowers  obtainal)le  in 
the  open  air  and  that  I  press  them  in  the  leaves  of  my 
pamphlets  (presently  to  be  mentioned),  and  in  that  way 
to  dry  and  press  tliem,  so  I  might  exhibit  the  product  of 
our  wonderful  mild  climate  up  to  the  month  of  December. 
We  succeeded  in  getting  fifty-two  varieties  then  in  bloom  in 
the  open  aii',  and  all  were  well  dried  and  preserved  when 
I  arrived  at  my  original  starting  place,  Eddyville,  Iowa. 
Here,  loving  friends.  ]Mrs.  Elizabeth  ]\Iale  (Aunt  Lib,  we 
call  her  now),  and  a  little  sprightly  youngster,  !Miss  Molly 
Male,  the  well-known  teacher  in  Tacoma,  artistically  ar- 
ranged my  treasures  on  tinted  paper  ready  for  exhibition 
upon  my  arrival  in  New  York. 

*I  had  written  an  eighty-page  ]iamphlet  (long  since  out 
of  print),  descriptive  of  Washing-ton  Territory,  and  my 
friend  E.  T.  Gunn,  of  the  Olymjjia  Transcript,  printed 
them — five  thousand  copies— most  of  which  I  took  with  me. 
The  late  Beriah  Brown  gave  me  a  letter  of  introduction 
to  his  old-time  friend,  Horace  Greeley,  to  whom  I  pre- 
sented it,  and  was  kindly  received  and  commended  to 
Chairman  Ely  of  the  New  York  Farmer's  Club,  and  by 
him  given  an  opportunity  to  exhibit  my  flowers,  speak  to 
the  club  about  our  country  and  tell  them  about  our  climate. 
This  little  talk  was  widely  circulated  through  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  club  and  printed  in  a  number  of  the  great 
papers,  among  them  tlie  Tribune. 

This  coming  to  the  notice  of  Jay  Cooke,  of  Northern 
Pacific  fame,  with  his  six  power  presses  just  staii;ed   at 

*The  last  purcluis;ible  copy  li;is  roccntly  boon  sold  for  twenty-five  dollars. 


158  A  Busy  Life 

Philadelphia  to  advertise  the  Northern  Pacific  route,  I 
was  called  to  his  pi-eseuce  and  closely  questioned,  and 
finally  coiupliniented  by  the  remark  that  he  "did  not  think 
they  could  afford  to  have  any  opi)osition  in  the  field  of 
advertising,"  took  up  my  whole  edition  and  sent  them  on 
their  way  to  his  various  financial  agencies. 

Our  visitors  were  all  soon  at  home  with  their  tents  up, 
their  blankets  out  airing,  the  camp  fires  lit  and  with  an 
abandon  truly  refreshing  turned  out  like  children  from 
school  to  have  a  good  time.  The  garden,  of  course,  was 
drawn  upon  and  "such  delicious  vegetables  I  never  saw 
before,"  fell  from  a  dozen  lii:>s,  during  the  stay.  That 
turnip  patch  was  planted  in  Septendjer.  "Why,  that  beats 
anything  I  ever  saw,"  father  said,  and  as  insignificant  an 
incident  as  it  may  seem,  had  a  decided  effect  upon  the 
minds  of  the  party.  "Why,  here  they  are  growing  in 
November.  At  home  (Iowa)  they  would  by  this  time  be 
frozen  as  solid  as  a  brick."  "Why,  these  are  the  finest 
flavored  potatoes  I  ever  ate,"  said  another.  The  little 
\Wfe  had  a  row  of  sweet  peas  growing  nearby  the  cabin 
that  shed  fragrance  to  the  innermost  corner  and  to  the 
tents,  and  supjdied  bouquets  for  the  tables,  and  plenty  of 
small  talk  comparing  them  with  those  "in  the  States". 

And  so  the  little  garden,  the  sweat  peas,  and  other 
flowers  wild  and  cultivated,  brought  contentment  among 
those  who  at  first  had  had  a  feeling  of  despondency  and 
disappointment. 

Didn't  we  have  clam  bakes"?  1  should  say!  And  didn't 
the  women  folks  come  in  loaded  with  berries?  And,  what 
whoppers  of  huckleberiy  puddings,  and  huckleberry  pies 
and  all  sorts  of  good  things  that  ingenuity  of  the  house- 
wives could  conjure  up. 

I  had  fre(|uently  seen  deer  trotting  on  the  beach  and 
told  my  visitors  so,  but  somehow  they  could  not  so  readily 
find  them — had  been  too  noisy — but  soon  a  fat  buck  was 
bagged,  and  the  cup  of  joy  was  full,  the  feast  was  on. 

My  visitors  could  not  understand,  and  neither  could  I, 
how   it  came  that   a   neai'bv   island    ( Andci'son'i    of  a    few 


Ventures  and  Adventures  159 

sections  in  extent,  could  contain  a  lake  of  clear,  fresh  water 
several  hundred  feet  above  tide  level,  and  that  this  lake 
should  have  neithei"  inlet  nor  outlet,  ft  was  on  the  margin 
of  this  lake  that  the  first  deer  was  killed  and  nearby  where 
the  elder  brother  had  staked  his  claim. 

Mowich  Man,  an  Indian  whom  1  liave  known  for  man\' 
years,  and,  by  the  way,  one  of  those  interfering  with  the 
survey  of  Muckleshute,  as  related  elsewhere,  was  then  one 
of  our  neighbors,  or  at  least,  frequently  passed  our  cabin 
with  his  canoe  and  j)epi)le.  He  was  a  great  hunter,  a  ci-ack 
shot,  and  an  all-round  Indian  of  good  parts,  by  the  stand- 
ard a.i)plicable  to  his  race.  ]\Iany  is  the  saddle  of  venison 
that  this  man  has  l)i'ought  me  in  the  lapse  of  years.  He 
was  not  a  man  of  any  particular  force  of  character,  but 
his  steadfast  friendship  has  always  impressed  me  as  to 
the  worth,  from  our  own  standpoint,  of  the  race  to  which 
he  belonged.  While  our  friends  were  with  us  visiting,  my 
Indian  friend  came  along  and  as  usual  brought  a  nice 
ham  of  venison  to  the  camp,  and  at  my  suggestion,  went 
with  the  younger  men  of  the  visitors  to  where  their  first 
exploit  of  hunting  bore  fruit.  Our  young  men  came  back 
with  loud  praise  on  their  lips  for  the  Indian  hunter.  There 
was  nothing  specially  noteworthy  in  the  incident  only  as 
illustrating  what,  to  a  great  extent,  was  going  on  all  over 
the  settled  portion  of  the  Territory  leading  up  to  a  better 
understanding  between  the  two  races.  T  can  safely  say 
that  none  of  the  pioneers  was  without  what  might  be 
designated  as  a  favorite  Indian,  that  is,  an  Indian  who 
was  particular  to  gain  the  good  will  of  his  chosen  friend, 
and  in  most  cases  would  assume,  or  custom  would  bring 
about,  the  adoption  of  the  white  man's  name  and  the 
Indian  would  ever  afterwards  be  known  by  his  new  name. 
Mowich  ]\Ian,  however,  like  Leschi,  as  we  shall  see  later, 
while  friendly  to  the  wliites  A\as  possessed  of  a  more  inde- 
pendent spirit.  Some  of  Mowich  Man's  people  were  fine 
singers,  and  in  fact  his  camp,  or  his  canoe  if  traveling, 
was  always  the  center  for  song  and  merriment,  but  it  is 
a  curious  fact  one  seldom  can  get  the   Indian  music  by 


160  A  Busy  Life 

askiug  for  it,  but  rather  must  wait  for  its  spoutaneous  out- 
burst. But  Indian  songs  in  those  days  came  out  from 
nearly  every  nook  and  corner  and  seemed  to  pervade  the 
^\-]lole  country,  so  much  that  we  often  and  often  could 
hear  the  songs  and  accompanying  stroke  of  the  paddle 
long  before  our  eyes  would  rest  on  the  floating  canoes. 

"Will  the  reader  in  his  mind  dw^ell  on  the  hardships  of 
the  pioneers,  or  will  he  rather  look  upon  the  brighter 
side,  that  the  so-called  hardships  were  simply  the  drill 
that  developed  the  manhood  and  womanhood,  to  make 
Ijetter  men  and  better  women,  because  thej^  had  faced  a 
duty  they  could  not  shirk,  and  were  thereby  profited? 
Neither  did  the  pioneers  as  a  class  want  to  shirk  a  duty 
and  those  of  the  later  generation,  who  have  poured  out 
their  sympathy  for  the  hardships  of  the  poor  pioneers 
may  as  well  save  some  of  it  for  the  present  generation, 
the  drones  of  the  community  that  see  no  pleasure  in  the 
stern  duties  of  life.  But  I  must  have  done  with  these 
reflections  to  resume  my  story,  now  nearly  ended,  of  the 
visitors  at  the  island  home  and  of  the  long  trip. 

Never  did  kings  or  queens  enjoy  their  palaces  more,  nor 
millionaires  their  princely  residences,  than  the  humble  im- 
migrant party  did  the  cabin  and  tents  in  their  free  and 
luxurious  life.  Queens  might  have  their  jewels,  but  did 
we  not  have  ours?  Did  we  not  have  our  two  babies,  "the 
nicest,  smartest,  cutest  in  all  the  world?"  Did  we  not 
have  a  profusion  of  fresh  air  to  inhale  at  every  breath, 
and  appetites  that  made  every  morsel  of  food  of  exquisite 
flavor  ? 

But  we  were  all  far  away  from  what  all  yet  thought 
of  as  home,  and  admonished  that  winter  was  coming  on 
and  that  after  a  short  season  of  recreation  and  rest  we 
must  separate,  each  to  his  task,  which  we  did,  and  the 
great  trip  was  ended.  The  actors  separated;  and  now,  as 
I  write,  almost  all  have  gone  on  tliat  greater  joui*ney,  in 
whicli  the  two  of  us  left  are  so  soon  to  join. 


X^KN'ITHKS    AM)    A I  )V  I)  N 'I'll  RES  161 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

FIRST  IMMIGJiANTS  THROUGH  THK  NATCHKSS  I'ASS,  185:!. 

While  the  breaking  of  the  barrier  of  the  great  moun- 
tain range  for  the  immigrants  to  Puget  Sound  through 
the  Natchess  Pass  was  not  in  a  liaptism  of  blood,  certainly 
it  was  under  the  stress  of  great  suffering  and  anxiety,  as 
shown  by  the  graphic  letter  following,  of  that  indefatigable 
worker  and  painstaking  searcher  after  historic  facts,  Geo. 
IT.  Himes,  now  of  J^ortland,  Oregon,  the  real  father  of 
that  great  institution,  the  Oregon  Historical  Society. 

Having,  as  the  reader  will  see  by  the  reading  of  other 
chapters  of  this  work,  had  some  keen  personal  experi- 
ences through  this  gap  of  the  mountains,  it  is  but  natural 
the  incidents  ^\'ill  come  nearer  home  to  ine  than  to  the 
general  reader,  particularly  as  I  know  the  sincerity  of 
purpose  of  the  writer  and  the  utter  absence  of  any  spirit 
of  exaggeration.  Although  some  errors  have  crept  into 
]\Ir.  Himes'  letter,  where  he  has  drawn  from  other  sources 
yet  this  in  nowise  detracts  from  the  value  of  his  statements, 
but  shows  how  very  difficult  it  is  to  ascertain  exact  facts 
so  long  after  the  events. 

The  letter  follows: 

''Portland,  Oregon,  Jan.  23,  1905. 
'•My  Dear  Meeker: 

"Some  time  early  in  August,  1853,  Nelson  Sargent,  from 
Puget  Sound,  met  our  party  in  Grand  Ronde  Valley,  saying 
to  his  father,  Asher  Sargent,  mother,  two  sisters  and  two 
brothers,  and  such  others  as  he  could  make  an  impression 
on,  'You  want  to  go  to  Puget  Sound.  That  is  a  better 
country  than  the  Willamette  Valley.  All  the  good  land 
is  taken  up  there;  but  in  the  Sound  region  you  can  have 
the  pick  of  the  best.  The  settlers  on  Puget  Sound  have 
cut  a  road  through  Natchess  Pass,  and  you  can  go  direct 
from  the  Columbia  through  the  Cascade  IMountains,  and 
thus  avoid  the  wearisome  trip  through  the  mountains  over 
the  Barlow  route  to  Portland,  and  then  down  the  Columlna 

12—1958 


162  A  Busy  Life 

to  Cowlitz  Kivcr,  and  then  over  a  inisoral)le  road  to  Pugct 
Sound. ' 

"A  word  about  the  Sargents.  Asher  Sargent  and  his 
son  Nelson  left  Indiana  in  1849  for  California.  The  next 
year  they  drifted  nortliward  to  the  northern  part  of  Oregon 
— Puget  Sound.  Some  time  late  in  1850  Nelson  and  a 
number  of  others  were  sliipwrecked  on  Queen  Charlotte 
Island,  and  remained  among  the  savages  for  several  months. 
The  father,  not  hearing  from  the  son,  supposed  he  was 
lost,  and  in  1851  returned  to  Indiana.  Being  rescued  in 
time,  Nelson  wrote  home  that  he  was  safe;  so  in  the  spring 
of  1853  the  Sargents,  Longmire,  Van  Ogle,  and  possibly 
some  others  from  Indiana,  started  for  Oregon.  Some- 
where on  the  Platte  the  Biles  (two  families),  Bakers  (two 
families),  Downeys,  Kinkaids,  my  father's  family  (Tyrus 
Himes),  John  Dodge  and  family — John  Dodge  did  the 
stone  vv'ork  on  the  original  Territorial  university  building 
at  Seattle ;  Tyrus  Himes  was  the  first  boot  and  shoemaker 
north  of  the  Columbia  River ;  James  Biles  was  the  first 
tanner,  and  a  lady.  Mrs.  Frazier,  was  the  first  milliner  and 
dressmaker — all  met  and  journeyed  westward  peaceably 
together,  all  bound  for  "Willamette  Valley.  The  effect  of 
Nelson  Sargent's  presence  and  portrayal  of  the  magnifi- 
cent future  of  Puget  Sound  caused  most  members  of  this 
company  of  140  or  more  persons — or  the  leaders  thereof, 
James  Biles  being  the  most  conspicuous — to  follow  his 
(Sargent's)  leadership.  At  length  the  Umatilla  camp- 
ground was  reached,  which  was  situated  al)out  three  miles 
iielow  the  present  city  of  Pendleton.  From  that  point  the 
company  headed  for  old  Fort  Walla  Walla  ( Wallula  of 
today),  on  the  Columbia  River.  It  was  understood  that 
there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  crossing,  but  no  boat  was 
found.  Hence  a  flat-boat  was  made  by  whip-sawing  lumber 
out  of  driftwood.  Then  we  went  up  the  Yakima  River, 
crossing  it  eight  times.  Then  to  the  Natchess  River, 
through  the  sage  brush,  frefiuently  as  high  as  a  covered 
wagon,  which  had  to  be  cut  down  before  we  could  pass 
thi-ough  it.    On  September  15th  we  reached  the  mountains 


Ventures  and  Aovkntitres  163 

Mild  found  that  there  was  no  road,  nothing  but  an  Indian 
ti-ail  to  follow.  Indeed,  thei-c  was  no  road  whatever  after 
leaving  the  Columbia,  and  iiotliinu  I)ii1  a  trail  from  the 
ITmatiHa  to  the  (V)luml)ia;  hut  hciiig  an  open  country,  we 
had  no  particulai-  difficulty  in  making-  headway.  But  I 
remember  all  iiands  felt  quite  serious  the  night  we  camped 
in  the  edge  of  the  timber — th(^  first  of  any  consequence 
that  we  had  seen — on  the  night  of  the  15th  of  September. 
►Sargent  said  he  knew  the  settlers  had  started  to  make  a 
road,  and  could  not  understand  why  it  was  not  completed ; 
and  since  his  parents,  brothers  and  sisters  were  in  the  com- 
pany, most  of  us  believed  that  he  did  not  intend  to  deceive. 
However,  there  was  no  course  to  pursue  but  to  go  forward. 
So  we  pushed  on  as  best  we  could,  following  the  bed  of  the 
stream  part  of  the  time,  first  on  one  bank  and  then  on 
the  other.  Every  little  ways  we  would  reach  a  point  too 
diificidt  to  pass;  then  we  would  go  to  the  high  ground  and 
cut  our  way  through  the  timber,  frequently  not  making 
more  than  t\\-o  or  three  miles  a  day.  Altogether,  the 
Natchess  was  crossed  sixty-eight  times.  On  this  journey 
there  was  a  stretch  of  fifty  miles  without  a  blade  of  grass 
— the  sole  subsistence  of  cattle  and  horses  being  browse 
from  young  mai)le  and  alder  trees,  which  was  not  very 
filling,  to  say  the  least.  In  making  the  road  every  person 
from  ten  years  old  up  lent  a  hand,  and  there  is  whei-e 
your  humble  servant  had  his  first  lessons  in  trail  making, 
l)arefooted  to  boot,  but  not  much,  if  any,  worse  oflp  than 
many  others.  It  was  certainly  a  strenuous  time  for  the 
women,  and  many  were  the  forebodings  indulged  in  as 
to  the  probability  of  getting  safely  through.  One  woman, 
'Aunt  Po})',  as  she  was  called — one  of  the  Woolery  women 
— would  break  down  and  shed  tears  now  and  then;  but  in 
the  midst  of  her  weeping  she  would  rally  and  by  some 
quaint  remark  or  funny  story  would  cause  everybody  in 
her  vicinity  to  forget  their  troubles. 

"In  due  time  the  summit  of  the  (Cascades  was  reached. 
Here  there  was  a  small  prairie — i'(villy,  it  was  an  old  burn 
that  had  not  grown  up  to  tim])er  of  any  size.     Now  it  was 


164  A  Busy  Life 

October,  about  the  8th  of  the  month,  and  bitter  cold  to  the 
youth  with  bare  feet  and  fringed  pants  extending  half 
way  down  from  knees  to  feet.  My  father  and  the  teams 
had  left  camp  and  gone  aci'oss  the  little  burn,  where  most 
of  the  company  was  assem])l(!d,  apparently  debating  about 
the  next  movement  to  make.  And  no  wonder,  for  as  we 
came  across  we  saw  the  cause  of  the  delay.  For  a  sheer 
thirty  feet  or  more  there  was  an  almost  perpendicular  bluff, 
and  the  only  way  to  go  forward  was  by  that  way,  as  was 
demonstrated  by  an  examination  all  about  the  vicinity. 
Heavy  timber  at  all  other  points  precluded  the  possibility 
of  getting  on  by  any  other  route.  So  the  longest  rope  in 
the  company  was  stretched  down  the  cliff,  leaving  just 
enough  to  be  used  twice  around  a  small  tree  which  stood 
on  the  brink  of  the  precipice ;  but  it  was  found  to  be 
altogether  too  short.  Then  James  Biles  said:  'Kill  one 
of  the  poorest  of  Jiiy  steers  and  make  his  hide  into  a  rope 
and  attach  it  to  the  one  you  have.'  Three  animals  were 
slaughtered  before  a  rope  could  be  secured  long  enough  to 
let  the  wagons  down  to  a  point  where  they  would  stand 
u]).  There  one  yoke  of  oxen  was  hitched  to  a  wagon,  and 
by  locking  all  wheels  and  hitching  on  small  logs  with  pro- 
jecting limbs,  it  was  taken  down  to  a  stream  then  kno^vn 
as  '  Greenwater. '  It  took  the  best  part  of  two  days  to 
make  this  descent.  There  were  thirty-six  wagons  belonging 
to  the  company,  but  two  of  them,  with  a  small  (piantity  of 
provisions,  were  wrecked  on  tiiis  hill.  The  wagons  could 
have  been  dispensed  with  without  nuich  loss.  Not  so  the 
provisions,  scanty  as  they  were,  as  the  company  came  to 
be  in  sore  straits  for  food  before  the  Whit(^  River  prairie 
was  reached,  probably  South  Prairie*  of  today,  where 
food  supplies  were  first  obtained,  consisting  of  potatoes 
without  salt  for  the  first  meal.  Another  trying  experi- 
ence was  the  ascent  of  Mud  Mountain  in  a  drenching  rain, 
with  the  strength  of  a  dozen  yoke  of  oxen  attached  to  one 

*It  was  Connell's  Prairie.  The  route  has  been  viewed  at  the  outset  through  Soutli 
Prairie,  but  afterwards  it  was  discovered  that  a  road  had  previously  been  opened  to 
White  River  through  ConnelTs  Prairie,  and  the  latter  route  was  adopted  and  the  old  road 
eleared  by  Allen's  party. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  165 

wagon,  with  sc;ii-cely  anylhiiijj;'  in  it  .save  cami)  (■(|iii|)iiicn1. 
and  taxing-  tlic  strength  of  llic  teams  to  tlic  utiiiosl.  liut 
all  trials  came  to  an  end  wiicn  the  coinpany  readied  a 
point  six  miles  i'roni  Steilaeooni,  about  October  ITtli,  and 
got  some  good,  fat  beef  and  plenty  of  potatoes,  and  even 
flour,  mainly  through  the  kindness  of  Ur.  W.  V.  Tolmie. 
The  change  fi-om  salmon  skins  was  gratifying. 

''And  now  a  word  about  the  wagon  road.  That  had 
been  cut  through  to  Greenwater.  There,  it  seems,  accord- 
ing to  a  statement  "made  to  me  a  luimber  of  years  ago  by 
James  Longmire,  and  confirmed  by  W.  0.  Bush,  one  of  the 
workers,  an  Indian  from  the  east  side  of  the  mountains, 
met  the  road  workers,  who  inquired  of  him  whether  there 
were  any  'Boston  men'  coming  through.  lie  replied. 
'Wake'— no.  Further  inquiry  satisfied  the  road  builders 
that  the  Indian  was  truthful,  hence  they  at  once  returned 
to  the  settlement,  only  to  be  greatly  astonished  two  weeks 
later  to  find  a  weary,  bedraggled,  forlorn,  hungry  and 
footsore  company  of  people  of  both  sexes,  from  the  babe 
in  arms — ray  sister  was  perhaps  the  youngest,  eleven 
months  old,  when  we  ceased  traveling — to  the  man  of  55 
years,  but  all  rejoicing  to  think  that  after  trials  indescrib- 
able they  had  at  last  reached  the  'Promised  Land.' 

"Mrs.  James  Longmire  says  that  soon  after  descending 
the  big  hill  from  the  summit,  perhai)s  early  the  next  day, 
as  slie  was  a  few  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  tlie  teams, 
leading  her  little  girl,  three  years  and  two  months  old, 
and  carrying  her  baby  boy,  then  fifteen  months  old,  that 
she  remembers  meeting  a  man  coming  towards  the  immi- 
grants leading  a  pack  animal,  who  said  to  her:  'Good  God 
almighty,  woman,  where  did  you  come  from?  Is  there 
any  more?  Why,  you  can  never  get  through,  this  way. 
You  will  have  to  turn  back.  There  is  not  a  blade  of  grass 
for  fifty  miles.' 

"She  replied:  'We  can't  go  back;  we've  got  to  go  for- 
ward. ' 

"Soon  he  ascended  the  hill  l)y  a  long  detour  and  gave 
supplies  to  the  immigrants.     Mrs.  Longmire  says  she  re- 


166  A  Busy  Life 

members  hearing  this  man  called   'Andy',  and  is  of  the 
opinion  that  it  was  Andy  Burge. 

"When  the  immigrant  party  got  to  a  ])oint  supi)osed  to 
be  about  six  miles  fi-om  Steilacoom,  or  possil)ly  near  the 
cabin  of  John  Lackey,  it  camped.  Vegetables  were  given 
them  by  Lackey,  and  also  by  a  man  named  Mahon.  Dr. 
Tolmie  gave  a  beef.  When  that  was  sent  to  the  camp  the 
doctor  gave  it  in  charge  of  Mrs.  ^lavy  Ann  Woolery — 
'Aunt  Pop' — and  instructed  her  to  keep  it  intact  until 
the  two  oldest  men  in  the  company  came  in,  and  that  they 
were  to  divide  it  evenly.  Soon  a  man  came  with  a  knife 
and  said  he  was  going  to  have  some  meat.  Mrs.  Woolery 
said:  'No,  sir.'  He  replied:  'I  am  hungry,  and  I  am 
going  to  have  some  of  it. '  In  response  she  said :  '  So  are 
the  rest  of  us  hungry;  but  that  man  said  I  was  not  to 
allow  anyone  to  touch  it  until  the  two  oldest  men  came 
into  camp,  and  they  would  divide  it  evenly. '  He  said : 
'I  can't  wait  for  that.'  She  said:  'You  will  have  to.' 
He  then  said:  'By  what  authority?'  'There  is  my  au- 
thority,' holding  up  her  fist — she  weighed  a  hundred 
pounds  then — and  she  said :  '  You  touch  that  meat  and 
I'll  take  that  oxbow  to  you,'  gra])bing  hold  of  one.  The 
man  then  subsided.  Soon  the  two  oldest  men  came  into 
camp.  The  meat  was  divided  according  to  Dr.  Tolmie 's 
directions,  and,  with  the  vegetal)les  that  had  been  given, 
by  the  settlers,  all  hands  had  an  old-fashioned  boiled  sup- 
per— the  first  for  many  a  day." 

I  know  from  experience  just  what  such  a  supper  meant 
lo  that  camp  and  how  it  tasted.  God  bless  that  comi)aiiy. 
1  came  to  know  nearly  all  of  them  personally,  and  a  bigger 
hearted  set  never  lived.  They  earned  tlie  right  to  be  called 
pioneers  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word,  but  a  large  per- 
centage have  gone  on  to  pleasant  paths,  where  the  re- 
mainder of  us  are  soon  to  be  joined  in  enduring  fellow- 
shii). 

"In  tlie  list  following  are  the  names  ol'  the  Natchess 
Pass  immigrants   of   185.'}.    The  names   followed    l)v   other 


Ventures  and  Adventttres  167 

names  in  parentheses  are  those  of  young  ladies  who  sub- 
sequently married  men  bearing  the  names  within  the 
parentheses : 

"James  Biles,*  Mrs.  Nancy  M.  Biles,*  Geo.  W.  Biles, 
James  D.  Biles.*  Kate  Biles  (Sargent),  Susan  B.  Biles 
(Drew),  Clark  Biles,*  Margaret  Biles,*  Ei)hemia  Biles 
(Knapp),  Rev.  Chas.  Byles,*  Mrs.  Sarah  W.  Byles,*  David 
h\  Bvles,*'  Mary  Jane  Hill  (Byles),  Rebecca.  E.  Byles 
(Goodell),*  Chas.  N.  Byles,*  Sarah  I.  Byles  (Ward).  John 
W.  Woodward,*  Bartholomew  C.  Baker,*  Mrs.  P^mny 
Baker,*  James  ET  Baker,*  John  W.  Baker,  Leander  H. 
Baker,  Elijah  Baker,*  Mrs.  Olive  Baker,*  Joseph  N. 
Baker,  Wm.  LeRoy  Baker,  Martha  Brooks  (Young),* 
Newton  West,  ^Villiam  R.  Downey,*  Mrs.  W.  R.  Downey,* 
Christopher  C.  Downey,*  Geo.  W.  Downey,*'  James  H. 
Downey,*  R.  W.  Downey,  John  M.  Downey,  Louise  DoAvney 
(Guess),*  Janes  Downey  (Clark,*  Susan  Downey  (Lath- 
am),* Laura  B.  Downey  (Bartlett),  Mason  F.  Guess,* 
AA^lson  Guess,*  Austin  E.  Young,  Henry  C.  Finch,*  Varine 
Davis,*  James  Aiken,  John  Aiken,  Glenn  Aiken,  Wesley 
Clinton,  J.  Wilson  Hampton,  John  Bowers,  William  M. 
Kincaid,*  Mrs.  W.  M.  Kincaid,*"  Susannah  Kincaid 
(Thompson),  Joseph  C.  Kincaid,  Laura  Kincaid  (Meade),* 
James  Kincaid,  John  Kincaid,*  James  Gant,  Mrs.  James 
Gant,  Harris  Gant,  Mrs.  Harris  Gant.  All  of  the  foregoing 
were  from  Kentucky.  Isaac  Woolery,*  Mrs.  Isaac  Wool- 
ery,  Robert  Lamuel  Woolery,  James  Henderson  Woolery. 
Sarah  Jane  Woolery  (Ward)  (born  on  Little  Sunday), 
Abraham  Woolery,*  Mrs.  Abraham  AVoolery  (Aunt  Pop), 
Jacob  Francis  Woolery,*  Daniel  Henry  Woolery,  Agnes 
Woolery  (Lamon),  Erastus  A.  Light,*  Mrs.  E.  A.  Light,* 
Henry  Light,  George  Melville,*  Mrs.  George  Melville,* 
Kate  Melville  (Thompson),*  Robert  Melville,*  Isaac  H. 
Wright,*'  j\lrs.  I.  H.  Wright,*  Benjamin  Franklin  AVright,* 
Mrs.  B.  F.  Wright,  James  Wright,  Eliza  Wright  (Bell), 
Rebecca  Wright  (Moore),  William  Wright,  Byrd  Wright,* 
Grandfather  —  Wright,  Grandmother  —  Wright,  Jas.  Bell, 

*Dead. 


1G8  A  Busy  Lip^e 

Aniiis  Wright  ( Downey  j.  Tlie  ioregoing-  were  from  Mis 
sonri.  Tyrus  Himes,*  Mrs.  Tyriis  Himes,*  George  H. 
Hinies,  Helen  L.  Himes  (Riiddell),  Judson  W.  Himes, 
Lostina  Z.  Himes  (Eaton),*  Joel  Risdon,*  Henry  Risdon, 
Chas.  R.  Fiteh,*  Frederick  Burnett,*  James  Longmire,* 
Mrs.  James  Longmire,  Elcaine  Longmire,  David  Longmire, 
John  A.  Longmire,  Tillathi  Longmii-e  (Kandle),  Asher 
Sargent,*  Mrs.  A.  Sargent,*  E.  Nelson  Sargent,  Wilson 
Sargent,*  F.  M.  Sargent,*  Matilda  Sargent  (Saylor),  Re- 
becca Sargent  (Kellet),  Van  Ogle,  John  Lane,  Mrs.  John 
Lane,  Joseph  Day,  Elizabeth  Whitesel  (Lane),  Wra.  White- 
sel,  Mrs.  Wm.  Whitesel,  William  Henry  Whitesel,  Nancy 
Whitesel  (Leach),  Clark  N.  Greenraan,  Daniel  E.  Lane,*' 
'Mrs.  D.  E.  Lane,*  Edward  Lane,  William  Lane,  Timothy 
Lane,  Albert  Lane,  Margaret  Whitesel,  Alexander  White- 
sel, Cal  Whitesel.  The  foregoing  were  from  Indiana. 
AVidow   Gordon,   Mary   Frances   Gordon,   or   McCullough, 

]\L-s.  Mary  Ann  McCullongh  Porter,  McCullough, 

Frazier,*  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Frazier,*  Peter  Judson,* 

Mrs.  Peter  Judson,*  Stephen  Judson,  John  Paul  Judson, 
Gertrude  Shoren  Judson  (Delin),  John  Neisan.*  The  fore- 
going were  from  Hlinois.  In  addition  to  the  above  were 
William  H.  Mitchell  and  John  Stewart,*  fi'om  States  un- 
Is'nown. 

This  makes  a  total  of  148  of  the  immigrants  who  com- 
pleted the  road — that  is,  all  but  Melville.  He  refused  to 
assist  in  making  the  road  and  kept  al)Out  a  half  day  behiiid, 
notwithstanding  James  Biles  asked  him  to  lend  a  hand. 

Accompanying  the  party  of  road  makers  was  Quiemuth. 
a  half-brother  of  Leschi,  who  acted  as  guide  and  led  the 
horse  upon  which  were  packed  the  blankets  and  provisions 
of  Parker  and  Allen. 

♦Dead. 


Vrnturkh  and  Adventures  169 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

BUILDING    OF    Ttll':    NA'I'CIIKSS    PASS    ROAD. 

We  have  seen  with  wliat  travail  the  first  immigrants 
passed  through  the  Natchess  Pass.  We  will  now  tell  about 
that  other  struggle  to  construct  any  kind  of  a  road  at  all, 
and  so  we  must  need  go  back  a  little  in  our  story. 

While  1  had  been  struggling  to  get  the  little  wife  and 
baby  over  from  the  Columbia  River  to  the  Sound,  and 
a  roof  over  their  heads,  the  sturdy  pioneers  of  this  latter 
region  set  resolutely  to  work  building  a  wagon  road  through 
this  pass,  to  enable  the  immigration  of  1858,  and  later 
years,  to  come  direct  to  Puget  Sound. 

For  unknown  ages  the  Indians  had  traveled  a  well-worn 
but  crooked  and  difficult  trail  through  this  pass,  followed 
by  the  Hudson  Bay  people  later  in  their  intercourse  with 
the  over-mountain  tribes,  but  it  remained  for  the  resolute 
pioneers  of  1853  to  open  a  wagon  road  over  the  formidable 
Cascade  range  of  mountains  to  connect  the  two  sections  of 
the  Territory,  otherwise  so  completely  separated  from  each 
other. 

Congress  had  appropriated  twenty  thousand  dollars  for 
the  construction  of  a  military  road  from  Fort  Steilacoom 
to  Wallula  on  the  Columbia  River,  but  it  was  patent  to 
all  the  appropriation  could  not  be  made  available  in  time 
for  the  incoming  immigration  known  to  be  on  the  way. 

This  knowledge  .impelled  the  settlers  to  make  extraor- 
dinary efforts  to  open  the  road,  as  related  in  this  and  suc- 
ceeding chapters. 

]\Ieetings  had  been  held  at  various  points  to  forwai'd  th(^ 
scheme  and  popular  subscription  liatsi  circulated  for  prose- 
cuting this  laudable  enterprise.  It  was  a  great  undertak- 
ing for  the  scattered  pioneers,  particularly  where  so  many 
were  newcomers  with,  scant  provision  yet  made  for  food 
or  shelter  for  the  coming  winter. 

But  everyone  felt  this  all  important  enterprise  must  l)e 
attended  to.  to  the  end  tliat  they  might  divert  a  part  of 


170  A  Busy  Life 

the  expected  iminigration  which  would  otherwise  go  down 
the  Cohimbia  or  through  passes  south  of  that  river,  and 
thence  into  Oregon,  and  he  lost  to  the  new  hut  yet  un- 
organized territoiy  of  Washington. 

And  yet  in  the  face  of  all  the  sacrifices  endured  and  the 
universal  public  spirit  manifested,  there  are  men  who 
would  belittle  the  efforts  of  the  citizens  of  that  day  and 
malign  their  memories  by  accusing  them  of  stirring  up  dis- 
content among  the  Indians.  "A  lot  of  white  men  who  were 
living  witli  Indian  women,  and  who  were  interested  in  see- 
ing that  the  country  remained  common,  pasture  as  long  as 
possible."  A  more  outrageous  libel  was  never  penned 
against  the  living  or  dead.  In  this  case  but  few  of  the 
actors  .are  left,  but  there  are  records,  now  fifty  years  old 
that  it  is  a  pleasure  to  perpetuate  for  the  purpose  of  set- 
ting this  matter  aright,  and  also  of  coiTccting  some  errors 
that  have  crept  into  the  treacherous  memories  of  the  liv- 
ing, and  likewise  to  pay  a  tribute  to  the  dead.  Later  in 
life  I  knew  nearly  all  these  sixty-nine  men,  subscribers  to 
this  fund,  and  so  far  as  I  know  now  all  are  dead  but  eight, 
and  I  know  the  underlying  motive  that  prompted  this 
strenuous  action;  they  wanted  to  see  the  country  settled 
up  with  the  sturdy  stock  of  the  overland  immigrants. 

The  same  remark  applies  to  the  intrepid  road  workers, 
some  of  whom  it  will  be  seen  camped  on  tlie  trial  for  the 
w^liole  summer,  and  labored  without  money  and  without 
price  to  that  end. 

It  is  difficult  to  abridge  the  long  ((uotation  following,  il- 
lustrating so  vividly  as  it  does  the  rough  and  ready  pioneer 
life  as  Winthrop  saw  and  so  sparklingly  described.  Such 
tributes  ought  to  be  perpetuated,  and  I  willingly  give  up 
space  for  it  from  his  work,  "The  Canoe  and  the  Saddle," 
which  will  repay  the  reader  for  careful  perusal.  Winthrop 
gives  this  account  as  he  saAv  the  road-workers  the  last  week 
of  August,  1853,  in  that  famous  trip  from  Nisqually  to  The 
Dalles.  Belated  and  a  little  after  nightfall,  he  siuldenly 
emei'ged  from  the  surrounding  darkness  where,  quoting  his 
words: 


Vkntiires  anm)  Advkn'itu'Ks  171 

"A  scoi'c  of  mci)  were  grou|)t'(l  jilxuit  a  fire.  Several 
had  sprung-  iij),  alert  at  our  api)i-oacli.  Others  reposed  un- 
troubled. Othei'S  tended  viands  odoriferous  and  frizzing'. 
Others  stirred  the  flame.  Ai'ound,  the  forest  rose,  black 
as  Erebus,  and  the  men  moved  in  the  glare  against  the 
gloom  like  pitmen  in  the  blackest  coal  mines. 

"I  must  not  dally  on  the  brink,  half  hid  in  the  obscure 
thicket,  lest  the  alert  ones  below  should  suspect  an  ambush 
and  i)oint  toward  me  open-mouthed  rifles  from  their  stack 
near  at  hand.  I  was  enough  out  of  the  woods  to  halloo,  as 
I  did  heartily.  Klale  sprang  forward  at  shout  and  spur. 
Antipodes  obeyed  a  comprehensive  hint  from  the  whip  of 
LooloAvcan.  We  dashed  doMm  into  the  crimson  pathway, 
and  across  among  the  astonished  road  makers — astonished 
at  the  sudden  alighting  dov,m  from  Nowhere  of  a  pair  of 
cavaliers,  Pasaiook  and  Siwash.  What  meant  this  incur- 
sion of  a  strange  couple?  I  became  at  once  the  center  of  a 
red-flannel-shirted  circle.  The  recumbents  stood  on  end. 
The  cooks  let  their  frying  pans  bubble  over,  while,  in  re- 
sponse to  looks  of  expectation,  I  hung  out  my  handbill  and 
told  the  society  my  brief  and  simple  tale.  I  was  not  run- 
ning away  from  any  fact  in  my  history.  A  harmless  per- 
son, asking  no  favors,  with  plenty  of  pork  and  spongy  bis- 
cuit in  his  bags — only  going  home  across  the  continent,  if 
may  be,  and  glad,  gentlemen  pioneers,  of  this  unexpected 
pleasure. 

"My  quality  thus  announced,  the  boss  of  the  road  mak- 
ers, without  any  dissenting  voice,  offered  me  the  freedom 
of  their  fireside.  He  called  for  the  fattest  pork,  that  I 
might  be  entertained  right  republicanly.  Every  cook  pro- 
claimed supper  ready.  1  followed  my  representative  host 
to  the  windward  side  of  the  greenwood  pyre,  lest  smoke 
wafting  toward  my  eyes  should  compel  me  to  disfigure  the 
banquet  with  lachrymose  countenance. 

"Fronting  the  coals,  and  basking  in  their  embrowning 
beams,  were  certain  diminutive  targets,  well  known  to  me  as 
defensive  armor  against  darts  of  cruel  hunger — cakes  of 
unleavened  bread,  light  flapjacks  in  the  vernacular,  con- 


172  A  Busy  Life 

ft'ctfd  of  tiour  ami  the  saliue  juices  of  fire-ripciu'd  pork, 
and  kneaded  well  with  drops  of  the  living  stream.  Baked 
then  in  frying  pan,  they  stood  now,  each  nodding'  forward 
and  i-esting  its  edge  upon  a  planted  twig,  toast-crustily 
till  crunching  time  should  come.  And  now  to  every  man 
his  target !  Let  supper  assail  us !  No  dastards  with  trench- 
er are  we. 

"In  such  a  platonic  republic  as  this  a  man  found  his 
place  according  to  his  powers.  The  cooks  were  no  base 
scullions;  they  were  brothers,  whom  conscious  ability,  sus- 
tained by  universal  suffrage,  had  endowed  with  the  frying 
pan.  Each  man's  target  of  flapjacks  served  him  for  platter 
and  edible  table.  Coffee,  also,  for  beverage,  the  fraternal 
cooks  set  before  us  in  infrangible  tin  pots — coffee  ripened 
in  its  red  husk  by  Brazilian  suns  thousands  of  leagues  away, 
that  we,  in  cool  Northern  forests,  might  feel  the  restorative 
power  of  its  concentrated  sunshine,  feeding  vitality  with 
fresh  fuel. 

' '  But  for  my  gramniverous  steeds,  gallopers  all  day  long, 
iniflinching  steeplechase,  what  had  nature  done  here  in 
the  way  of  provender'?  Alas!  little  or  naught.  This  camp 
of  plenty  for  me  was  a  starvation  camp  for  them. 

"My  hosts  were  a,  stalwart  gang.  I  had  truly  divined 
them  from  their  cleavings  on  the  hooihut  (road).  It  was 
but  play  for  any  one  of  these  to  whittle  down  a  cedar  five 
feet  in  diameter.  In  the  morning  this  compact  knot  of 
comrades  would  explode  into  a  mitraille  of  men  wielding 
keen  axes,  and  down  would  go  the  dumb,  stolid  files  of  the 
forest.  Their  talk  was  as  muscular  as  their  arms.  When 
these  laughed,  as  only  men  fresh  and  hearty  and  in  the 
open  air  can  laugh,  the  world  became  mainly  grotesque; 
it  seemed  at  once  a  comic  thing  to  live — a  subject  for  chuck- 
ling, that  we  were  bipeds  with  noses — a  thing  to  roai-  at : 
that  we  had  all  met  there  from  the  Made  world  to  hobnob 
by  a  frolicsome  fire  with  tin  pots  of  coffee,  and  partake  of 
ci-isped  bacon  and  toasted  doughboys  in  ridiculous  abund- 
ance. Easy  laughter  infected  the  atmosphere.  Echoes 
ceased  to  be  pensive  and  became  jocose.    A  rattling  humor 


V|':nthrios  and  AiwI'IN'imikes  178 

perv.idcd  llio  feast,  and  (livcii  Rivei-*  i-ipplcd  with  noise  of 
fantastic,  jollity,  (civilization  and  its  diicttfinte  diiici's-out 
sneer  when  Clodpole  at  Dive's  table  doubles  his  soup, 
knifes  his  fish,  tilts  his  plate  into  his  lap,  puts  muscle  into 
the  crushing  of  his  meriuo-ue,  and  tosses  off  the  warm 
beaker  in  his  finger  bowl.  Camps  by  Tacoma  sneer  not  at 
all,  but  candidly  roar  at  parallel  accidents.  Gawkey  makes 
a  cushion  of  his  flapjack.  .  Butterfingers  drops  his  red- 
hot  rasher  into  his  bosom,  or  lets  slip  his  mug  of  cotfee  into 
his  boot  drying  by  the  fire — a  boot  henceforth  saccha- 
rine. A  mule,  slipping  his  halter,  steps  forward  unnoticed, 
puts  his  nose  in  the  circle  and  brays  resonant.  These  are 
the  jocular  boons  of  life,  and  at  these  the  woodsmen  guffaw 
with,  lusty  good  nature.  Coarse  and  rude  the  jokes  may 
be,  but  not  nasty,  like  the  innuendoes  of  pseudo-refined 
cockneys.  If  the  woodsmen  are  guilty  of  uncleanly  wit,  it 
differs  from  the  uncleanly  wit  of  cities  as  the  mud  of  a 
road  differs  from  the  sticky  slime  of  slums. 

"It  is  a  stout  sensation  to  meet  masculine,  nuiscular  men 
at  the  brave  point  of  a  penetrating  Boston  hooihut — men 
who  are  mates — men  to  whom  technical  culture  means 
naught- — men  to  whom  myself  am  naught,  unless  T  can 
saddle,  lasso,  cook,  sing  and  chop ;  unless  I  am  a  man  of 
nerve  and  pluck,  and  a  brother  in  generosity  and  hearti- 
ness. It  is  restoration  to  play  at  cudgels  of  jocoseness  with 
a  circle  of  friendly  roughs,  not  one  of  whom  ever  heard 
the  word  bore — with  pioneers  who  must  think  and  act  and 
wrench  their  living  from  the  closed  hand  of  nature. 

"*  *  *  While  fantastic  flashes  were  leaping  up  and 
illuminating  the  black  circuit  of  forest,  every  man  made 
his  bed,  laid  his  blankets  in  starry  bivouac  and  slept  like 
a  mummy.  The  camp  became  vocal  with  snores ;  nasal  with 
snores  of  various  calibre  was  the  forest.  Some  in  trium- 
phant tones  announced  that  dreams  of  conflict  and  victory 
were  theirs;  some  sighed  in  dulcet  strains  that  told   of 

*This  should  road  Green  Water.  This  camp  was  far  up  in  the  mountains  and  the  stream 
referred  to  came  from  the  main  range  and  not  from  the  glaciers  of  the  great  mountain, 
and  hence  was  a  sparkling,  dancing  rivulet  of  clearest  water.  Green  River  is  forty  miles 
or  more  farther  down  the  mountain. 


174  A  Busy  Life 

lovers'  dreams;  sonic  strew  shrill  whistles  thi'ough  cavern- 
ous straits;  some  wheezed  grotesquely  and  gasped  piteous- 
ly ;  and  from  some  who  lay  sui)ine,  snoring  up  at  tlie  fi'etted 
roof  of  forest,  sound  gushed  in  spasms,  leaked  in  snorts, 
bubbled  in  puffs,  as  steam  gushes,  leaks  and  bubbles  from 
yawning  valves  in  degraded  steamboats.  They  died  away 
into  the  music  of  my  dreams;  a  few  moments  seemed  to 
pass,  and  it  was  day. 

'  <  *  *  *  jj?  horses  were  breakf astless,  not  so  were  their 
masters.  The  road  makers  had  insisted  that  T  should  be 
their  guest,  partaking  not  only  of  the  fire,  air,  earth  and 
water  of  their  bivouacs,  but  an  honorable  share  at  their 
feast.  Hardly  had  the  snoring  ceased  when  the  frjnng  of 
the  fryers  began.  In  the  pearly-gray  mist  of  dawn,  purple 
shirts  were  seen  busy  about  the  kindling  pile ;  in  the  golden 
haze  of  sunrise  cooks  brandislied  pans  over  fierce  coals 
raked  from  the  red-hot  jaws  of  flame  that  champed  their 
breakfast  of  fir  logs.  Rashers,  doughboys,  not  without 
molasses,  and  coffee — a  bill  of  fare  identical  with  last 
night's — were  our  morning  meal.     *     *     * 

"And  so  adieu,  gentlemen  pioneers,  and  thanks  for  your 
frank,  manly  hospitality!  Adieu,  'Boston  tilicum,'  far 
better  types  of  robust  Americanism  than  some  of  those  se- 
lected as  its  representatives  by  Boston  of  the  Orient,  where 
is  too  much  worship  of  what  is,  and  not  too  much  uplifting 
of  hopeful  looks  of  what  ought  to  be. 

"As  I  started,  the  woodsmen  gave  me  a  salute.  Down, 
to  echo  my  .shout  of  farewell,  went  a  fir  of  fifty  years' 
standing.  It  cracked  sharp,  like  the  report  of  a  lio\ntzer. 
and  crashed  downward,  filling  the  woods  with  shattered 
branches.  Under  cover  of  this  first  shot,  I  dashed  at  the 
woods.  1  could  ride  more  boldly  forward  into  savageness, 
knowing  that  the  front  riinks  of  my  nation  were  following 
close  behind." 

The  UH'ii  who  wen;  in  that  camp  of  road  workers  were 
E.  J.  Alien,  A.  J.  Burge,  Thomas  Dixon,  Ephraim  Allen. 
James  Henry  Allen,  George  Githers,  John  Walker,  John 


Ventures  and  Adventures  175 

H.  Mills,  R.  S.  More,  R.  Foreman,  Ed.  Crofts,  Jas.  Boise, 
Robert  Patterson,  Edward  Millei',  Edward  Wallace,  Lewis 
Wallace,  Jas.  R.  Smith,  John  Burrows,  and  Jas.  Mix. 

TJK^  names  of  the  workers  on  the  east  sloi)e  of  the  moun- 
tains are  as  follows:  Whitfield  Kii'tley,  Edwin  JMarsh,  Nel- 
son fSargent,  Paul  Jiuddell,  Edwai-d  Miller,  J.  W.  Fonts, 
John  L.  Perkins,  Isaac  M.  Brown,  James  Alversou,  Na- 
thaniel G.  Stewart,  William  Carpenter,  and  Mr.  Clyne. 

The  Pioneer  and  Democrat,  published  at  Olympia,  in  its 
issue  of  September  30tli,  1854,  contains  the  following  self- 
explanatory  letter  and  account  that  will  revive  the  memory 
of  many  almost  forgotten  names  and  set  at  rest  this 
calumny  cast  upon  the  fame  of  deserving  men. 

"Friend  Wiley:  Enclosed  I  send  you  for  publication 
the  statement  of  the  cash  account  of  the  Puget  Sound  emi- 
grant road,  which  has  been  delayed  until  this  time,  partly 
on  account  of  a  portion  of  the  business  being  unsettled,  and 
partly  because  you  could  not,  during  the  session  of  the  last 
leg\slature,  find  room  in  your  columns  for  its  insertion. 
As  you  have  now  kindly  offered,  and  as  it  is  due  the  citi- 
zens of  the  Territory  that  they  should  receive  a  statement 
of  the  disposition  of  the  money  entrusted  to  me,  I  send  it 
to  you,  and  in  so  doing  close  up  my  connection  with  the 
Cascade  road,  and  would  respectfully  express  my  gratitude 
to  the  citizens  for  the  confidence  they  have  rei)0sed  in  me, 
and  congratulate  them  upon  the  successful  completion  of 
the  road. 

"JAMESi  K.  HURD." 

RECEIPTS. 

By  subscription  of  John  M.  Swan,  $10.00;  S.  VV.  Percival,  $5.00;  Jos.  Cusbman,  $5.00; 
Milas  Galliher,  S5.00;  C.  Eaton,  $5.00;  Chips  Ethridge,  .$5.00;  Wm.  Berry,  $5.00;  J.  C. 
Patton,  $5.00;  T.  F.  McElroy,  $5.00;  James  Taylor,  S5.00;  George  Gallagher,  $5.00;  J. 
Blanchard,  $5.00;  Weed  tfe  Hurd,  $100.00;  Kendall  Co.,  $50.00;  G.  A.  Barnes,  $50.00;  Parker, 
Colter  &  Co.,  $30.00;  Brand  &  Bettman,  $25.00;  J.  &  C.  E.  Williams,  $25.00;  Waterman 
&  Goldman,  .$25.00;  Lightner,  Rosenthal  &  Co.,  $10.00;  A.  J.  Moses,  $10.00;  Wm.  W.  Plumb, 
$10.00;  Isaac  Wood  &  Son,  $15.00;  D.  J.Chambers,  $20.00;  John  Chambers,  $5.00;  McLain 
Chambers,  $10.00;  J.  H.  Conner,  $5.00;  H.  G.  Parsons,  $5.00;  Thomas  J.  Chambers,  $20.00; 
Puget  Sound  Agricultural  Co.,  $100.00;  Wells,  McAllister  &  Co.,  $.30.00;  Henry  Murray, 
$25.00;  L.  A.  Smith,  $25.00;  Chas.  Wren,  $25.00;  James  E.  Williamson,  $10.00;  H.  C.  Mosely, 
$5.00;  J.  M.  Bachelder,  $5.00;  Lemuel  Bills,  $25.00;  W.  Boatman,  $15.00;  W.  M.  Sherwood 
$5.00;  James  Barron,  $5.00;  S.  W.  Woodruff,  $5.00;  R.  S.  More,  $5.00:  John  D.  Pre,ss,  $5.00; 
Samuel  McCaw,  $5.00;  Philip  Reach,  $10.00;  Abner  Martin,  $20.00;  George  Brail,  $10.00; 


MC)  A  Busy  Life 

T.  W.  GlasKow,  SIO.OO;  McGouktv,  SlO.dU;  Thos.  Tallentire,  $10.00;  Carv.in  Hainilton. 
S5.00;  John  McTammI,  S25.(I0;  Hicliard  Philander,  So. 00;  \V.  Gregg,  S.i.OO;  David  Pattee, 
.?20.00;  Thomas  ChamlMTs,  .?:)(). 00;  W.  A.  Shiughlcr,  SIO.OO;  W.  Hardin,  §15.00;  L.  Baleh, 

S50.00;  W.  W.  Miller,  .?10.00;  .1.  B.  Webber,  ?2.i.OO;  J.  \V.  Goodcll,  SIO.OO; Kline,  SIO.OO; 

A.  Benton  Moses,  $.5.00; Parsons,  S-i.OO;  11.  Hill,  .?5.00;  liy  amount  received  for  horse, 

S:{5.00;  by  amount  reeeivcd  for  hor.so  (Woods),  $35.00;  bv  subscription  of  Xehson  Barnes, 
S:j0.00.  Total,  $1,220.00.  Deduct  amount  nolo  from  Lemuel  Bills,  $25.00.  Whole  amount 
received  as  per  subscription  paper,  ?1,195.00. 

This  list  of  suhscribers  to  the  road  fund  will  revive  mem- 
ories of  almost  forgotten  names  of  old-time  friends  and 
neighbors,  and  also  will  serve  to  show  the  interest  taken 
!iy  all  classes.  It  mnst  not  for  a  moment  be  taken  this 
comprises  the  whole  list  of  contributors  to  this  enterprise, 
for  it  is  not  half  of  it,  as  the  labor  subscription  far  ex- 
ceeded the  cash  receipts  represented  by  this  published  state- 
ment. Unfortunately,  we  are  unable  to  obtain  a  complete 
list  of  those  who  gave  their  time  far  beyond  what  they 
originally  had  agreed  upon,  but  were  not  paid  for  their 
labor. 

The  Columbian,  published  under  date  of  Jul}^  30th,  1853, 
says : 

"Captain  Lafayette  Balch,  the  enterprising  proprietor 
of  Steilacoom,  has  contributed  one  hundred  dollars  in  mon- 
ey towards  the  road  to  Walla  Walla.  To  each  and  every 
man  who  started  from  that  neighborhood  to  work  on  the 
road,  (Japtain  Balch  gives  a  lot  in  the  town  of  Steilacoom. 
lie  is  security  to  the  United  States  Government  for  a  num- 
ber of  mules,  paek  saddles  and  other  articles  needed  by  the 
men.  He  furnished  the  outfit  for  the  company  who  started 
from  that  place  with  Mr.  E.  J.  Allen,  at  just  what  the 
articles  cost  in  San  Francisco." 

Mr.  Kurd's  expend iturt^  is  set  out  in  his  published  re- 
port, but  none  of  it  is  for  labor,  except  for  Indian  hire,  a 
small  sum.  We  know  there  were  thirty  men  at  work  at  one 
lime,  and  that  at  least  twelve  of  them  spent  most  of  the 
summer  on  the  work  and  that  at  least  fifty  laborers  in  all 
donated  tlieir  time,  and  that  the  value  of  the  la])of  was  far 
ill  excess  of  the  casli  outlay. 

By  scanning  the  list  the  "Old  Timer"  will  I'eadily  see 
the  cash  subscribers  and  road  workers  were  by  no  means 
confined  to  01ym})ia,  and  tliat  many  of  tlie  old  settlers  of 


Vrntitres  and  Adventttres  177 

Pierce  Comity  are  reiiresented,  and  even  the  foreign  cor- 
porcition,  the  I'n^'et  Sound  Agi-icnltural  ('Oinpany,  eaiiie 
ilown  witli  a.  licavy  snljseription.  Eveiybody  was  in  favor 
of  the  road.  Such  ean  also  pick  out  the  names  of  those 
"white  men  who  were  living  Avith  Indian  women"  among 
the  liberal  suliscribers  to  the  fund  for  opening  the  road. 

Nor  were  the  Indians  lacking  in  interest  in  the  enterprise. 
A.  J.  Baldwin,  then  and  for  many  years  afterwards  a  eiti 
zen  of  Olympia.  and  whom  it  may  be  said  was  knoA^n  as  a 
truthful  man,  in  a  recent  inteiwiew,  said : 

"We  all  put  our  shoulders  to  the  wheel  to  make  the  thing 
go.  I  helped  to  pack  out  grub  to  the  working  party  my- 
self. It  seemed  to  be  difficult  to  get  the  stuff  out ;  entirely 
more  so  than  to  get  it  contributed.  I  was  short  of  pack 
animals  one  trip,  and  got  twelve  horses  from  Leschi,  and 
I  believe  Leschi  went  himself  also."* 

"Do  you  remember  how  much  you  paid  Leschi  for  his 
horses  ? ' ' 

"Why,  nothing.  He  said  if  the  whites  were  working 
without  pay  and  were  giving  provisions,  it  w^as  as  little  as 
he  could  do  to  let  his  horses  go  and  help.  He  said  if  1 
was  giving  my  time  and  use  of  horses  then  he  would  do 
the  same,  and  if  I  received  pay  then  he  wanted  the  same 
pay  I  got.    Neither  of  us  received  anything." 

These  were  the  Indians  who  were  actually  driven  from 
their  farms  into  the  war  camp,  leaving  the  plow  and  un- 
finished furrow  in  the  field  and  stock  running  at  large,  to 
be  confiscated  by  the  volunteers,  at  the  outl)reak  of  the 
Indian  war  of  1855. 

And  such  were  the  road  workers  in  the  Natchess  Pass  in 
the  fall  of  1853,  and  such  were  the  juoneers  of  that  day. 
Fortunate  it  is  we  have  the  testimony  of  such  a  gifted  and 
unbiased  writer  as  Winthrop  to  delineate  the  character  of 
the  sturdy  men  who  gave  their  strenuous  efforts  and  sub- 
stance that  their  chosen  commonwealth  might  prosper. 

*Baldwin  is  mistaken.  Queimuth,  Leschi's  brother,  went  as  guide  and  packer,  but 
Leschi  doubtless  supplied  the  horses. 

13—1958 


178  A  Busy  Life 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

lUll.niNd   'I'ill';   NATCIIKSS  PASS  EOAD [C()NCL1]I)KI>.] 

Allen's  party  left  Steilaeooin  I'ov  this  woi'k  Jiily  30tli, 
(1858),  and  was  still  at  work  on  the  26tli  of  September, 
when  he  wrote:  "We  will  be  through  this  week,  having 
completed  the  western  portion  of  the  road. ' '  With  twenty 
men  in  sixty  days  and  over  sixty  miles  to  cut,  he  could  not 
be  expected  to  build  much  of  a  road. 

The  other  party,  under  Kirtley,  left  Olympia,  thirteen 
strong,  July  19th,  and  was  back  again  August  20th,  and 
so  could  not  have  done  very  effective  work  on  the  east  slope, 
as  it  would  take  at  least  a  third  of  the  time  to  make  the 
trip  out  and  back  from  their  field  of  labor. 

With  a  view  of  trying  to  settle  the  disputed  points,  I 
wi-ote  to  my  old  time  friend,  A.  J.  Burge,  one  of  the  Allen 
party,  to  get  information  from  first  hands,  and  have  this 
chai'acteristic  reply : 

"Wenass,  December  8tli,  1904. 

' '  Friend  Meeker.— Sir :  Your  letter  dated  Nov.  26,  1904, 
at  hand.  Sir,  I  am  quite  sick.  I  will  try  to  sit  up  long 
enough  to  scratch  an  answer  to  your  (|uestions.  Kirtley 's 
men  fell  out  among  themselves.  1  well  remember  Jack 
Perkins  had  a  black  eye.  Kirtley,  as  I  understood,  was  to 
go  (to)  Wenass  creek,  thence  cut  a  wagon  road  from  We- 
nass  to  the  Natchess  Iliver,  thence  up  the  Natchess  River 
until  they  met  Allen's  party.  It  is  my  opinion  they  did 
comnu'uce  at  Wenass.  There  were  three  notches  cut  in  many 
of  the  lai'ge  trees  (logs).  I  can  find  some  of  these  trees 
yet  where  these  not  dies  show.  Allen  did  not  know  Kirtley 
and  his  party  had  abandcmed  the  entei'prise  until  Ehformei' 
told  him.  He  expressed  much  surprise  and  regret.  I 
packed  the  provisions  for  Allen's  party.  The  last  trip  I 
made  1  found  Allen  and  his  party  six  or  eight  miles  down 
the  Natchess  River.  I  Avas  sent  back  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountain  to  search  for  a  pack  mule  and  a  pack  horse. 
These  two   animals    wei'e    used    by    the    working    i)ai'ty   to 


Vkntures  and  Adventures  17!) 

move  tlieii'  camp  outfit,  and  tlieir  provisions.  When  they 
returned  tliey  told  me  that  they  cut  the  road  down  to 
where  Kirtley's  party  left  off.  Of  my  own  knovrledge  I 
can  safely  say  Allen's  party  cut  the  road  from  John  ^lont- 
gomery's^  to  some  six  or  maybe  eight  miles  down  the 
Natchess  River,  and  it  was  foui-  days  after  that  before  they 
came  to  the  summit  on  their  return. 

"It  is  possible  Kirtlej^'s  party  slighted  their  work  to  tlie 
extent  that  made  it  necessary  for  the  immigrants  to  take 
their  axes  in  hand.  I  consider  Kirtley  a  dead  failure  at 
anything.  Kirtley's  party  came  home  more  than  a  mouth 
before  we  came  in.  If  Van  Ogle  is  not  insane  he  ought 
to  remember. 

"Allen's  party  cut  the  road  out  from  six  to  eight  miles 
down  the  Natchess  River  from  John  jMontgomery 's.  The 
valley  on  the  Natchess  River  is  too  narrow  foi-  any  mistake 
to  occur. 

"The  first  men  that  came  through  came  with  James  and 
his  brother,  Charles  Biles,  Sargent,  Do^vney,  James  Long- 
mire.  Van  Ogle,  two  Atkins.  Lane,  a  brother-in-law  of  Sar- 
gent, Kincaid,  two  Woolery's,  Lane  of  Puyallup,  E.  A. 
Light,  John  Eagan  (Reagan),  Charley  Fitch.  Meeker,  I 
am  quite  sick;  when  I  get  well  I  will  write  more  detailed 
account ;  it  is  as  much  as  I  can  do  to  sit  up. 
"Yours  in  haste,  as  ever, 

"A.  J.  BURGE." 

This  man  I  have  known  for  over  fifty  years,  and  it 
touched  me  to  think  at  the  age  bordering  on  eighty,  he 
should  get  up  out  of  a  sick  bed  to  comply  with  my  request. 
He  has  written  the  truth,  and  some  of  the  information  we 
could  get  in  no  other  way. 

It  seems  that  some  people  live  a  charmed  life.  Burge 
was  shot  by  a  would-be  assassin  a  few  miles  out  from  Steil- 
acoom  over  forty  years  ago,  the  bullet  going  througli  his 
neck,  just  missing  the  jugular  vein. 

While  it  is  a  complete  digression,  nevertheless,  just  as 

*NisqualIy  Plains. 


ISO  A   Brsv  IjiFK 

iiiteivsliug'  \\vvv  as  elsfwliert',  so  i  will  tell  i\\v  story  of 
this  sliootiny  to  further  illustrate  conditions  of  early  settle- 
ment on  the  Nis(|ually  plains.  The  man  with  the  thirteen 
cows  and  tliii'ty  calves  mentioned  elsewhere,  lived  near 
Burg'(\  The  mo.st  desi)ei'ate  character  I  ever  knew,  Chai'les 
^rcDanicl,  also  was  a  near  neighbor,  but  a  fi'iend  of  Andy, 
as  we  used  to  call  Bui"»^"('.  Both  h)s1  stock  that  could  be 
traced  directl^^  to  their  neighl)or,  Wren,  the  maji  with  the 
extra  calves,  but  it  was  no  use  to  prosecute  him  as  a  jury 
could  not  be  procured  that  would  convict.  I  had  myself 
ti'it'd  it  in  our  court  with  the  direct  evidence  of  the 
bi'anded  hide  taken  from  him,  but  a  bribed  jurynum  re- 
fused to  convict.  For  a  few  years  and  for  this  district 
and  with  the  class  previously  described  as  occupying  the 
country  adjacent  to  Steilacoom,  there  seemed  to  be  no  re- 
dress through  our  courts.  Finally  Burge  and  McDaniel 
waylaid  their  neighbor  a  few  miles  out  from  Steilacoom, 
tied  him  to  a  tree,  and  whipped  him  most  unmercifully.  I 
have  never  yet  given  my  approval  to  mob  law  and  never 
will,  believing  that  it  is  better  to  suffer  awhile,  bide  one's 
time  until  laws  can  be  enforced,  rather  than  to  join  in  ac- 
tions that  will  breed  contempt  for  law  and  lead  to  anarchy ; 
but,  if  ever  there  was  a  justifiable  case  of  men  taking  the 
law  in  their  own  hands,  this  was  one  of  them,  and  is  intro- 
duced here  to  illustrate  a  condition  of  affairs  that  had 
grown  up  which  seemed  well  nigh  intolerable.  After  the 
whipping  Wren  was  warned  to  leave  the  country,  which 
he  could  not  M'ell  do,  tied  to  a  tree  as  he  was  until  third 
parties  discovered  and  released  him,  but  which  he  speedily 
did,  although  the  wealthiest  man  in  the  county.  No  prose- 
cutions followed,  but  in  the  lapse  of  time  a  colored  man  ap- 
peared at  Steilacoom  and  spent  much  time  hunting  herbs 
on  the  prairies,  until  one  day  Burge  was  going  home  from 
Steilacoom  in  his  wagon,  when  this  centre  shot  was  fired 
with  the  result  as  related.  The  colored  num  disappeared 
as  mysteriously  as  he  came,  but  everyone  believed  he  had 
been  hired  to  assassinate  Burge  and  McDaniel.  and  as  after- 
wards proven  was  the  case. 


VkNTUHKS    and    AnVKNTlIRES  181 

l)Ul  the  trouble  was  not  ended  here.  The  hiw  less  neigh- 
bor had  gone,  but  not  lawkivSsness.  The  old  story  tliat  law- 
lessness begets  lawlessness  was  again  proven.  McDaniel 
and  othei's  eoncdnded  that  as  Wren  was  gone,  they  eonid 
l)rey  upon  his  huid  holdings,  which  for  twenty-five  years 
in  Pierce  County  was  no  more  than  s(piatter's  rights,  in 
conseciuence  of  that  intolerable  claim  of  the  Puget  Sound 
Agricultural  Company,  mentioned  elsewhere.  At  this,  most 
of  the  community  rebelled  and.  warned  McDaniel,  but  to 
no  pui'pose,  until  finally  he  was  shot  down  on  the  streets  of 
Steilacoom,  or  rather  a  vacant  lot  in  a  public  place,  and 
lay  for  hours  in  his  death  struggles  uncared  for,  and  his 
pal  murdered  in  the  wagon  that  was  carrying  him  to  a 
scaffold.  The  two  had  been  waylaid,  but  had  escaped,  only 
to  meet  their  fate  in  a  more  public  manner.  Burge  nar- 
rowly escaped  a  like  fate  at  the  hands  of  the  mob,  because 
of  his  near  neighborshi})  with  McDaniel  and  of  his  partici 
pation  with  him  in  the  first  instance  that  had  led  up  to  the 
final  catastrophe.  But  Burge  was  an  honorable  man, 
though  rough  in  manner,  yet  just  in  his  dealings,  while  Mc- 
Daniel was  a  gambler  and  a  blackleg  of  the  very  worst 
imaginable  type.  The  Indian  war  had  brought  to  the  front 
many  vicious  characters,  and  the  actions  of  some  officials 
in  high  places  had  encouraged  lawlessness,  so,  as  a  commu- 
nity, the  nearby  country  round  and  about  Steilacoom  was 
scourged  almost  beyond  belief. 

And  yet  there  were  genuine  pioneer  settlements  m  not 
very  far  off  regions  of  this  storm  center  of  lawlessness, 
where  the  law  was  as  cheerfully  obeyed  as  in  any  old  and 
well  settled  community,  where  crime  was  scarcely  known, 
and  where  family  ties  were  held  as  sacred  as  any  place  on 
earth,  and  where  finally  the  influence  spread  over  the  whole 
land  and  the  whole  community  leavened. 

By  these  incidents  related  it  will  be  seen  that  pioneei-s 
were  neithei"  all  saints  nor  all  sinners,  but  like  the  older 
communities  had  their  trials  other  than  the  supposed  dis- 
comforts incident  to  pioneer  life. 

The  reader  may  not  have  noticed  that  Burge  in  his  letter 


182  A  Busy  Life 

lucutiuiis  that  tlieru  are  still  trees  (lie  means  li)gsj,  yet  tt) 
be  seen  with  the  three  notches  cut  in  them,  where  the  im- 
migrant road  had  been  cut.  I  had  forgotten  tlie  third 
notch,  but  it  all  comes  back  to  me  now  that  he  has  men- 
tioned it.  These  logs  that  we  bridged  up  to  and  cut  the 
notches  in  foi-  the  wheels  in  most  cases  had  to  have  the 
third  notch  in  the  center  to  save  the  cou})ling  pole  or  reach 
from  catching  on  the  log,  especially  where  the  ))i-idging  did 
not  extend  out  far  from  the  log  to  be  crossed.  Oftentimes 
the  wagon  would  be  unloaded,  the  wagon  box  taken  off,  the 
^vagon  uncoupled  and  taken  over  tlie  obstruction  or  down 
or  up  it,  as  the  case  might  be,  to  be  loaded  again  })eyond. 

It  will  be  noticed  by  Mr.  Himes'  letter  that  tlieir  party 
came  all  the  way  up  the  canyon  and  crossed  the  Natchess 
River  68  times  while  1  crossed  it  but  thirty  odd  times.  At 
or  near  the  32d  crossing,  the  road  workers  took  to  the  table 
land  and  abandoned  the  lower  stretch  of  the  canyon,  and 
through  that  portion  the  train  which  Mr.  Himes  refers  to 
was  compelled  to  cut  their  own  road  for  a  long  stretch. 
But  that  part  reported  cut  was  certainly  a  hard  road  to 
travel,  and  we  had  to  work  more  or  less  all  the  way  down 
the  mountain;  as  Colonel  E.  J.  Allen,  who  is  yet  alive, 
quaintly  put  it  in  a  recent  letter :  ' '  Assuredly  the  road 
was  not  sandpapered."  I  should  say  not.  I  think  the 
Colonel  was  not  much  of  a  teamster  and  had  never  handled 
the  goad  stick  over  the  road  or  elsewhere,  as  T  did.  else  he 
would  be  more  symi)athetic  in  responses  to  outcries  against 
the  "execrable  shadow  of  a  road." 

Nelson  Sargent,  mentioned  by  Mr.  Himes,  still  lives  and 
is  a  respected,  tnithful  citizen,  but  he  certainly  did  take 
great  risks  in  leading  that  first  train  of  immigrants  into 
that  trap  of  an  uncut  road  up  the  Natchess  River.  The 
whole  party  narrowly  escaped  starvation  in  the  mountains 
and  Sai'gent  a  greatei-  risk  of  his  neck  at  the  hands  of  in- 
dignant immigi'ants  while  in  the  mountains,  if  we  may  be- 
lieve the  repoits  that  came  out  at  the  time  fi-om  the  rescued 
train.  However,  I  never  believed  that  Sargent  intended 
to  deceive,  but  was  over-sanguine  and  was  himself  deceived, 


Ventures  and  Adventttres  183 

and  that  Kirtley's  failure  to  continue  in  the  field  was  the 
canse  of  the  suffering  that  followed. 

Allen  sent  300  pounds  of  flour  to  Wena.ss  and  a  courier 
came  to  Olympia,  whereupon  "Old  Mike  Simmons,"  Bush, 
Jones,  and  otlun-s,  forthwith  started  witli  half  a  ton  of 
flour,  .onions,  potatoes,  etc.,  and  met  them  beyond  tlie  out- 
skirts of  the  settlement.  All  that  was  necessary  those  days 
for  a  person  to  get  help  was  to  let  it  become  known  that 
some  one  was  in  distress  and  there  would  always  be  willing 
hands  without  delay ;  in  fact,  conditions  almost  approached 
the  socialistic  order  of  common  property  as  to  food,,  by  the 
voluntary  actions  of  the  great,  big  hearted  early  settlers,  as 
shown  in  other  instances  related,  as  well  as  in  this.  God 
bless  tliose  early  settlers,  the  real  pioneers  of  that  day. 

The  Indian  Leschi,  who  we  have  seen  contributed  to  the 
work,  utilized  the  road  to  make  his  escape  with  seventy  of 
his  people,  after  his  disastrous  defeat  at  the  hands  of  the 
volunteers  and  United  States  troops  in  March,  1856,  to 
cross  the  summit  on  the  snow,  so  that  after  all,  in  a  way, 
he  received  a  benefit  from  his  liberality  in  times  of  peace. 

Two  years  after  the  o])euing  of  the  road,  the  Hudson 
Bay  ('Ompany  sent  a  train  of  three  hundred  horses  loaded 
with  furs,  from  the  interior  country  to  Fort  Nisqually, 
witli  a  return  of  merchandise  through  the  same  pass,  but 
never  repeated  the  experiment. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

ABOUT  INDIANS. 

The  outbreak  of  an  Indian  war,  soon  followed  the  first 
treaty  making.  The  Indians  had  been  outrageously  cheated 
and  deceived  and  war  followed. 

"October  28th,  1855,  nine  persons  were  massacred  on 
White  River,  about  twenty  miles  South  of  Seattle."  Such 
is  the  record  of  that  bloody  day's  work,  eighteen  miles  dis- 


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VKN'I'irRIOS    AND    AdVI'INTUKKS  185 

taut  from  wlicrc  I  \\;is  living,  six  miles  cast  of  h'oi't  Slcila- 
cooni.* 

"The  Indians  have  hrolcen  out,"  was  passed  fi'om  one 
settler's  eabin  to  another  by  rumors,  so  quickly  that  by  the 
nioi'iiing  of  the  2!)th  all  were  on  tlie  move  towards  the  fort, 
which  in  fact  was  Jio  fort  at  all — simply  a  few  eal)ins  and 
some  thin  board  houses. 

I  had  lived  in  peace  with  these  Indians  and  they  had 
gained  my  confidence,  and  as  the  sequel  subsequently 
showed,  T  held  their  friendshi})  and  confidence,  for  in  after- 
times,  durinc:  the  wai*,  a  war  })arty  held  me  liarmless  witliin 
their  power,  as  they  had  said  they  would  of  those  who  had 
advocated  their  cause  at  the  time  the  treaties  were  made 

Soon  after  the  outbreak  noted,  I  disregarded  the  earn- 
est entreaties  of  many,  A\ent  back  to  my  stock  and  to  the 
cabin  and  cared  for  the  al)andoned  dairy  and  young  stock. 
I  did  not  believe  the  Indians  would  molcvst  me,  but  took 
the  precaution  of  having  my  rifle  in  a  convenient  place. 
But  I  did  not  need  to  use  it.  "Wlien  nightfall  came,  how- 
ever, I  did  withdraw  from  my  cabin,  not  in  fear  of  war 
parties,  but  as  against  individual  outlaw's. 

As  the  sole  military  record  of  my  life  consisted  in  my  ex- 
perience with  a  company  of  17  settlers  to  make  a  raid  to 
the  Puyallup  valley  soon  after  the  outbreak  described,  I 
thought  to  "save"  my  prestige  and  tell  about  it. 

The  settlers  of  Puyallup  had  left  their  homes  the  next 
day  after  the  massacre  in  such  haste,  that  they  were  almost 
absolutely  destitute  of  clothing,  bedding  and  food,  as  well 
as  shelter.  A  strong  military  force  had  penetrated  the  In- 
dian country : — the  upper  Puyallup  valley  and  beyond,  we 
knew,  but  did  not  know  they  had  retreated  by  another  road, 
— virtually  driven  out — the  very  day  we  went  in  armed 
with  all  sorts  of  guns  and  with  scarcely  any  organization. 
We  had,  however,  not  gone  into  the  Indian  stronghold  to 
fight  Indians,  Init  to  recover  property,  nevertheless,  there 

'Fully  told  in  my  "Tragedy  ofJLeschi,"  to   wliich'  the'reader  is  referred  who  may 
ish  to  acquaint  themselves  of  the  early  history  of  the  Northwest  and  Indian  Warfare: 
575  pages,  6x9,  silk  cloth  binding,  $3.00  postpaid.     Address  Ezra  Meeker,  1120  .38th  Ave. 
N.,  Seattle,  Wash. 


186  A  Busy  Life 

would  have  been  liot  work  if  attacked.  The  settlers  knew 
tlie  countiy  as  w-ell  as  the  Indians,  and  wei-e  prepared  to 
meet  them  on  their  own  grounds  and  in  their  own  w'ay — by 
couples  or  singiy  if  need  be.  The  Indians  were  in  great 
force  but  a  few  miles  distant,  and  had  their  scouts  on  our 
tracks,  but  did  not  molest  us  while  we  visited  every  settler 's 
cabin,  secured  their  belongings  not  destroyed  and  on  the 
sixth  day  cauie  aAvay  Avith  great  loads  of  ''plunder,"  all 
the  while  in  blissful  ignorance  that  the  troops  had  been 
withdraw-n,  and  no  protection  lay  between  us  and  the  In- 
dian forces. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  discrimination,  of  the  In- 
dians in  favor  of  non-combatants,  which  became  so  pro- 
nounced as  the  war  progressed. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    ERASER    RIVER    STAMPEPE. 

On  the  21st  day  of  March,  1858,  the  schooner  Wild 
Pidgeon  arrived  at  Steilacoom  and  brought  the  news  that 
the  Indians  had  discovered  gold  on  Fraser  River;  had 
traded  several  pounds  of  the  precious  metal  with  the  Hud- 
son Bay  Company,  and  that  three  hundred  people  had  left 
Victoria  and  vicinity  for  the  new  eldorado.  And,  further, 
the  report  ran,  the  mines  were  exceedinglj^  rich. 

The  next  day  there  came  further  reports  from  the  north, 
that  the  Bellingham  Bay  Company's  coal  mines  had  been 
compelled  to  suspend  woi'k,  as  all  their  operatives  but  three 
had  started  for  the  mines,  that  numy  of  the  logging  camps 
had  shut  tlown,  and  all  the  mills  were  running  on  short 
time  from  the  same  cause. 

The  wave  of  excitement  that  ran  through  the  little  town 
u]ion  the  receipt  of  this  new^s  was  repeated  in  every  town 
and  hamlet  of  the  whole  Pacific  Coast,  and  continued 
around  the  world,  sending  thither  adventurous  spirits  from 
all  civilized  countries  of  the  earth. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  187 

But  when  tlie  word  came  the  next  week  that  one  hun- 
dred and  ten  pounds  of  gold  had  actually  been  received 
in  Victoria,  and  that  hundreds  of  men  wm'e  outfitting,  the 
virulence  of  the  gold  fever  knew^  no  l)ounds,  and  every- 
bod}^,  women  folks  and  all,  wanted  to  go,  and  would  have 
started  pell-mell  had  there  not  been  that  restraining  in- 
fluence of  the  second  sober  thought  of  people  who  had  just 
gone  through  the  mill  of  adversity.  My  family  was  still 
in  the  block  house  we  had  built  during  the  war  in  the  town 
of  Steilacoom.  Our  cattle  were  peacefully  grazing  on  the 
plains  a  few  miles  distant,  but  there  remained  a  spirit  of 
unrest  that  one  could  not  fail  to  observe.  There  had  been 
no  Indian  depredations  for  two  years  west  of  the  Cascade 
Mountains,  but  some  atrocious  murders  had  been  com- 
mitted by  a  few  renegade  white  men,  besides  the  murder 
of  Leschi  under  the  forms  of  law  that  had  but  recently 
taken  ])lace.  The  Indians  just  ovei'  the  mountains  were 
in  a  threatening  mood,  and  in  fact  soon  again  broke  out 
into  open  warfare  and  inflicted  heavy  punishment  on  Step- 
toe's  command,  and  came  very  near  annihilating  that  whole 
detachment. 

The  close  of  the  Indian  war  of  1855-6  had  engendered  a 
reckless  spirit  among  what  may  be  called  the  unsettled  class 
Ihat  to  many  of  the  more  sober  minded  was  looked  upon 
as  moi'e  dangerous  than  the  Indians  among  us.  In  the 
wake  of  the  United  States  army  paymaster  came  a  vile  set 
of  gamblers  and  blacklegs  that  preyed  upon  the  soldiers, 
officers  and  men  alike,  who  became  a  menace  to  the  peace 
of  the  conununity,  and,  like  a  veritable  bedlam  tnrned 
loose,  often  made  night  hideous  with  their  carousals.  Tlie 
reader  need  not  feel  this  is  an  overdrawn  i)icture,  for  it 
is  not.  We  must  remend)er  the  couniion  soldiers  of  the 
United  States  army  fifty  years  ago  were  very  different 
from  our  army  of  the  present  time.  At  least  such  was  the 
case  with  the  forces  stationed  at  Fort  Steilacoom  at  the 
time  of  which  I  am  writing. 

An  illustration:  Having  drifted  into  a  small  business 
conducted   in   our   block   house   at   Steilacoom,   in   an   un- 


188  A   lirsv  r.ih^i: 

giifu-flcd  iiioiiiciil  1  lei  n  lijilt'  dozen  ol"  the  hluc-coats  (as 
the  soldiei's  were  llicii  uiiivei'sally  called)  have  a  few 
articles  on  credit.  These  men  told  tluMi-  comrades,  who 
came  soliciting  credit  but  were  refused,  when  some  drunken 
members  of  the  party  swore  they  would  come  strong  enough 
to  take  the  goods  anyway,  and  actually  did  come  at  night 
thirty  strong,  and  having  been  refused  admission,  began 
breaking  down  the  door.  A  shot  through  the  door  that 
scattered  splinters  among  the  assembled  crowd  served  as  a 
wai-ning  that  caused  them  to  desist,  and  no  danmge  was 
done,  l)ut  the  incid(>nt  serves  to  illustrate  the  conditions 
prevailing  at  the  time  the  gold  discovery  was  reported. 
Pierce  County  contributed  its  contingent  of  gold  seekers, 
some  of  the  desperadoes  and  some  of  the  best  citizens. 
One  Charles  McDaniel,  who  killed  his  man  while  gone, 
returned  to  plague  us;  another,  one  of  our  merchants, 
Samuel  McCaw,  bundled  up  a  few  goods,  made  a  flying 
trip  up  Fraser  River,  came  back  with  fifty  oiinces  of  gold 
dust  and  with  the  news  the  mines  were  all  that  had  been 
reported,  and  more,  too,  which  of  course  added  fuel  to  the 
burning  flame  of  the  all-prevalent  gold  fever.  AVe  all  then 
believed  a  new  era  had  dawned  upon  us,  similar  to  that 
of  ten  years  before  in  California  that  changed  the  world's 
history.  High  hoi)es  wei'c  built,  most  of  them  to  end  in 
disap])ointment.  Not  but  there  wei-e  extensive  mines,  and 
that  they  were  rich,  and  that  they  wei'c  easily  worked,  but, 
liow'  to  get  there  was  the  pu/.zling  (piestion.  The  early 
voyagers  had  slipped  up  1he  Fraser  before  the  freshets 
that  came  fi'om  the  melting  snows  to  swell  the  torrents  of 
that  rivei'.  Those  going  hitei-  either  failed  altogether  and 
gave  up  the  unequal  contest,  or  lost  an  averag(>  of  one  canoe 
or  boat  out  of  three  in  the  persistent  at1em|)t.  How  many 
lives  were  lost  never  will  be  known. 

"Heginning  at  a  stump  in  the  bank  of  said  creek  (S(|uale- 
cum),  about  20  feet  above  the  bridge  near  tlie  mouth  of 
said  creek;  thence  I'unning  due  west  240  feet;  thence  due 
south  60  feet ;  thence  due  east  240  feet ;  thence  due  north 
fiO  f(>et  to  the  ])lace  of  beginning.'"    Such  is  the  descri])tion 


Ventures  and  Advi'.xti'kes  189 

of  a  ti^act  of  land  as  recorded  on  the  ])ook  of  records  of 
d(!eds  for  tlu;  county  of  Whatcom,  hearing  date  of  June 
25th,  1858.  On  that  date  I  was  in  Whatcom,  and  saw  the 
sights  and  acted  my  i)art  as  one  of  the  wikl  men  of  tht^ 
north  country,  received  a  deed  for  the  land  as  descrihed 
from  Edward  Eldi-idge,  who  then  resided  on  his  claim 
adjoining  the  town  of  Whatcom,  and  where  he  continued 
until  his  death.  No  public  surveys  had  up  to  that  time 
been  made,  and  so,  to  describe  a  lot  I  was  purchasing  of 
Mr.  Eldridge,  what  more  durable  monument  could  we 
select  than  the  big  stump  of  one  of  those  giants  of  the 
monster  forests  fronting  on  Bellingham  Bay. 

Going  back  a  little  in  my  story  to  the  receipt  of  the 
news  of  the  discovery  on  the  Fraser  and  Thompson  Rivers, 
each  succeeding  installment  of  news  that  came  to  Steila 
coom  more  than  confirmed  the  original  report.  Contingents 
began  to  arrive  in  Steilaconm  from  Oregon,  from  California, 
and  finally  from  "the  States,"  as  all  of  our  country  east 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains  was  designated  by  pioneers.  Steam- 
ers great  and  small  began  to  appear  with  more  or  less 
cargo  and  passenger  lists,  which  we  heard  were  as  nothing 
compared  to  what  was  going  on  less  than  a  hundred  miles 
to  the  north  of  us.  These  people  landing  in  Whatcom  in 
such  great  numbers  must  be  fed,  we  agreed,  and  if  the 
multitude  would  not  come  to  us  to  drink  the  milk  of  our 
dairies  and  eat  the  butter,  what  better  could  we  do  than 
to  take  our  cows  to  the  multitude  where  w^e  were  told  peo- 
ple did  not  hesitate  to  pay  a  dollar  a  gallon  for  milk  and 
any  price  one  might  ask  for  fresh  butter. 

But,  how  to  get  even  to  Whatcom  was  the  "rub'".  All 
space  on  the  steamers  was  taken  fi-om  week  to  week  for 
freight  and  passengers,  and  no  room  left  for  cattle.  In 
fact,  the  movement  of  provisions  was  so  great  that  at  one 
time  we  Avere  almost  threatened  with  a  veritable  famine, 
so  close  had  the  stock  of  food  been  shipped.  Finally,  our 
cattle,  mostly  cows,  were  loaded  in  an  open  scow^  and  taken 
in  tow  along  side  of  the  steamei-  (Sea  Bird,  I  think  it  was). 
where  all  went  smoothly  enough  until  we  arrived  off  the 


190  A  Busy  Life 

head  of  Whidby  Island,  where  a  chopped  sea  from  a  light 
wind  began  sloi)piiig  over  into  the  scow  and  evidently 
would  sink  us  despite  our  utmost  efforts  at  bailing.  When 
llic  captain  would  slow  down  the  speed  of  his  steamer  all 
was  well,  but  the  moment  greater  power  was  applied,  over 
the  gunwales  would  come  the  water.  The  dialogue  that 
cjisued  between  myself  aJid  the  captain  was  more  emphatic 
than  elegant  and  perhaps  would  not  look  well  in  print, 
l)ut  he  dare  not  risk  let  go  of  us  or  run  us  under  without 
incurring  the  risk  of  heavy  damages  and  probable  loss  of 
life.  But  1  stood  by  my  guns  (figuratively),  and  would 
not  consent  to  be  landed,  and  so  about  the  20th  of  June, 
tired  and  sleepy,  we  were  set  adrift  in  Belliugham  Bay. 
and  landed  near  the  big  stump  described  as  the  starting 
]ioint  for  the  land  purchased  later. 

But  our  cows  must  have  feed,  must  be  milked,  and  the 
milk  marketed,  and  so  there  w^as  no  rest  nor  sleep  for  us 
for  another  thirty-six  hours.  In  fact,  there  was  but  little 
sleep  for  anybody  on  that  l)ea.ch  at  the  time.  Several  ocean 
steamers  had  just  dumi^ed  three  thousand  people  on  the 
lieach,  and  the  scramble  still  continued  to  find  a  place  to 
build  a  house  or  stretch  a  tent,  or  even  to  spread  a  blanket, 
for  there  were  great  numbers  already  on  hand  landed  by 
previous  steamers.  The  staking  of  lots  on  the  tide  flats 
at  night,  when  the  tide  was  out,  seemed  to  be  a  staple 
industry.  Driving  of  piles  or  planting  of  posts  as  per- 
manent as  possible  often  preceded  and  accomj)anied  by 
high  words  between  contestants  came  to  he.  a  common- 
place occurrence.  The  belief  among  these  people  seemed 
to  be  that  if  they  could  get  stakes  or  })osts  to  stand  on 
cud,  and  a  six-inch  strip  nailed  to  them  to  encompass  a 
given  spot  of  the  flats,  that  they  would  thereby  become 
tlu^  own(M',  and  so  the  merry  wai-  w-enl  on  until  tlic  bub])l(^ 
bui'st. 

A  few  days  after  my  ai-i-ival  four  steamers  came  with  an 
aggregate  of  over  two  thousand  })assengers,  many  of  whom, 
however,  did  not  leave  the  steamer  and  took  passage  either 
to   tlioir    ])ort   of   departure.    San    Francisco,    Victoria,    or 


Ventures  and  Adventures  191 

points  oji  the  Sound.  The  ebb  tide  had  set  in,  and  although 
many  steamers  eaiue  later  and  landed  passengers,  their 
return  lists  soon  l)eeame  large  and  the  population  began 
to  diminish. 

Taking  my  little  dory  that  we  had  with  us  on  the  scow, 
I  rowed  out  to  the  largest  steamer  lying  at  anchor  sur- 
rounded by  small  boats  so  numerous  that  in  common  par- 
lance the  number  was  measured  by  the  acre,  "an  acre  of 
boats."  Whether  or  not  an  acre  of  space  was  covered  by 
these  craft  striving  to  reach  the  steamer  I  will  not  pre- 
tend to  say,  but  can  say  that  1  certainly  could  not  get 
within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  steamer.  All  sorts  of  craft 
filled  the  intervening  space,  from  the  smallest  Indian  canoe 
to  large  barges,  the  owners  of  each  either  striving  to  secure 
a  customer  from  a  hapless  passenger,  or,  having  secured 
one,  of  transferring  his  belongings  to  the  craft. 

There  were  but  a  few  women  in  this  crowd,  but  ashore, 
quite  too  many,  a  large  majority  of  whom  (those  on  the 
ground  "udll  remember)  were  too  much  like  their  arch 
representative,  "Old  Mother  Damnable,"  well  and  truly 
named.    But  I  draw  the  veil. 

"Where's  DeLacy?"  became  a  byword  after  weeks  of 
earnest  inquiry  of  the  uninitiated  as  to  what  was  trans- 
piring out  at  the  front,  where  supposed  work  was  going 
on  to  construct  a  trail  leading  through  the  Cascade  Moun- 
tains to  the  mouth  of  Thompson  River,  that  emptied  into 
the  Fraser  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  easterly  from  What- 
com. If  a  trail  could  be  constructed  through  the  moun- 
tains from  Whatcom,  then  the  town  would  at  once  bloom 
into  a  city,  and  the  fortunes  of  townsite  proprietors  would 
be  made,  and  all  might  go  to  the  mines  whose  spirit  moved 
them.  It  all  looked  very  feasible  on  paper,  but  several 
obstacles  not  taken  into  account  by  the  impatient  crowd 
defeated  all  their  hopes.  A  fund  had  been  raised  by  sub- 
scription at  the  inception  of  the  excitement  to  send  out 
parties  to  search  for  a  pass,  and  W.  W.  DeLacy,  an  engineer 
of  considerable  note,  started  out  early  in  the  season,  and 
so  far  as  I  know  never  came  back  to  Whatcom. 


192  A  Busy  Life 

Directly  this  party  was  scut  out  to  searcli  for  a  |)ass 
throuf^h  the  mountains  another  })arty  was  set  to  work  to 
follow  and  cut  the  trail.  All  sceminj^ly  went  well  for 
awhile,  and  until  there  eanie  no  word  to  the  public  from 
DeLacy.  The  trail  workers  were  yet  at  work,  but  did  not 
know  w^hat  was  ahead  of  them.  DeLacy  had  to  them  l)e- 
come  a  sort  of  myth.  The  fact  was  he  had  failed  to  find 
a  pass,  and  when  he  arrived  at  a  point  that  he  thought  was 
the  summit,  he  had  yet  fifty  miles  or  moi-c  of  the  worst 
of  the  mountains  ahead  of  him.  Meanwhile,  the  trail  out 
from  Whatcom  for  forty  or  fifty  miles  became  well  wo!"n 
by  men  and  animals  going  and  returning.  I  saw  sixty 
men  with  heavy  packs  on  their  backs  start  out  in  one  com- 
pany, everyone  of  whom  had  to  come  back  after  flounder- 
ing in  the  mountains  for  weeks.  So  long  as  there  could 
be  kept  up  a  hope  that  the  trail  w^ould  be  cut  through, 
just  so  long  a  complete  collapse  of  the  tow^nsite  boom  might 
be  averted,  and  so  DeLacy  was  kept  in  the  mountains  search- 
ing for  a  pass  which  w^as  never  found. 

About  the  time  I  landed  in  Whatcom,  H.  L.  Yesler  and 
Arthur  A.  Denny  headed  a  party  to  go  through  the  Sno- 
qualmie  Pass,  but  they  did  not  reach  the  open  countiy. 
W.  H.  Pearson,  the  intrepid  scout,  who  won  such  laurels 
with  Governor  Stevens  in  his  famous  ride  from  the  Black- 
feet  country,  conducted  a  party  of  eighty-two  persons, 
.sixty-seven  of  whom  packed  their  bedding  and  food  on 
their  backs,  through  the  Snoqualmie  Pass  to  the  Wenatchee. 
where  they  were  met  by  the  Indians  in  such  numbers  and 
threatening  mood  that  nearly  all  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 

Simultaneous  with  the  movement  through  the  Snoqual- 
mie Pass,  like  action  was  set  on  foot  to  utilize  the  Natchess 
Pass,  and  large  numbers  must  have  gotten  through,  as  on 
August  7th  the  report  was  published  that  fourteen  hun- 
dred miners  were  at  work  on  the  Natchess  and  Wenatcliee. 
This  report  we  know  to  be  untrue,  although  it  is  possible 
that  many  prospectors  were  on  those  rivers,  and  we 
know  also  some  gold  was  taken  out,  and  more  for  many 


Ventures  and  Adventures  193 

years  afterwards.  But  the  mines  on  these  rivers  did  not 
prove  to  be  rich  nor  extensive. 

At  the  same  time  efforts  were  made  to  reach  the  mines 
by  crossing  the  mountains  further  south.  The  people  of 
Oregon  were  sure  the  best  way  was  to  go  up  the  Columbia 
River  to  The  Dalles,  and  thence  north  through  the  open 
country,  and  more  than  a  thousand  men  were  congregated 
at  The  Dalles  at  one  time  preparing  to  make  the  trip 
northward. 

All  this  while  the  authorities  of  British  Columbia  were 
not  asleep,  but  fully  awake  to  their  own  interests.  Soon 
Governor  Douglass  put  a  quietus  upon  parties  going  direct 
from  Puget  Sound  ports  into  the  Fraser  River,  and  sev- 
eral outfits  of  merchandise  were  confiscated,  among  which 
was  one  of  IMcCaw  and  Rogers  from  Steilacoom.  Another 
effectual  barrier  was  the  prohibition  from  entering  the 
country  without  a  miner's  license,  which  could  be  obtained 
only  at  Victoria.  In  this  way  the  Whatcom  game  was 
blocked,  with  or  without  a  trail,  and  the  population  dis- 
appeared nearly  as  rapidly  and  more  mysteriously  than 
it  had  come,  and  the  liouses  that  had  been  built  were  left 
tenantless,  the  stakes  that  had  been  set  were  left  to  be 
swept  away  by  tides  or  to  decay,  and  Whatcom  for  a  time 
became  only  a  memory  to  its  once  great  population. 

It  is  doubtful  if  a  stampede  of  such  dimensions  ever 
occurred  where  the  suffering  was  so  great,  the  prizes  so 
few  and  the  loss  of  life  proportionately  gi^eater,  than  that 
to  the  Fraser  in  1858.  Probably  not  one  in  ten  that  made 
the  effort  reached  the  mines,  and  of  those  who  did  the 
usual  percentage  of  blanks  were  drawn  incident  to  such 
stampedes.  And  yet  the  mines  were  immensely  rich,  and 
many  millions  of  dollars  of  gold  value  came  from  the  find 
in  the  lapse  of  years,  and  is  still  coming,  though  now  nearly 
fifty  years  have  passed. 

While  the  losses  to  the  people  of  the  Puget  Sound  coun- 
try were  great,  nevertheless,  good  came  out  of  the  great 
stampede  in  the  large  accession  of  population  that  re- 
mained after  the  return  tide  was  over.    Many  had  become 

14—1958 


Ventures  and  Adventures  195* 

stranded  and  coidd  not  leave  the  country,  but  went  to  work 
with  a  will,  of  wiioni  not  a  few  are  still  honored  citizens 
of  the  State  that  has  been  carved  out  of  the  Territoiy  of 
tliat  day. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

AN    OLD    settlers'    MEETING. 

The  fact  that  the  generation  that  participated  in  the 
Indian  war  in  this  State  (then  Territory)  will  soon  pass, 
an  attempt  was  made  to  hold  a  reunion  of  all  the  adults 
who  were  in  Pierce  County  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Indian 
war  in  1855,  who  are  still  living  in  the  county. 

Naturally,  the  incidents  of  the  war  coming  under  per- 
sonal observation  formed  a  never-ending  topic  of  conver- 
sation. Mrs.  Boatman  related  the  incident  of  her  boy 
'Mohnnj'"  (John  Boatman,  who  now  lives  in  Puyallup), 
two  years  and  a  half  old,  who  was  carried  off  by  the 
Indians,  as  she  firmly  believes,  but  was  found  under  an 
oak  tree  the  following  day.  The  whole  garrison  at  Steil- 
acoom  turned  out.  together  with  a  great  many  citizens, 
and  scoured  the  prairie  all  night.  Colonel  Casey,  the 
commandant,  threatened  vengeance  against  the  Indians  if 
the  child  was  not  returned.  The  theory  was  that  the  In- 
dians had  taken  him  for  a  ransom  of  their  own  people  held 
by  the  whites. 

A  romantic  incident  was  recalled  of  Kate  Melville,  the 
lady  deputy  sheriff.  Her  father  was  the  first  sheriff  of 
Pierce  County,  and  during  his  term  of  office  was  im- 
prisoned for  contempt  of  court.  Kate  was  a  beautiful  girl, 
in  ideal  health,  and  a  superb  equestrienne,  but  withal  was 
a  modest,  retiriiig  woman.  When  her  father  was  incar- 
cerated she  was  aroused  to  action  and  accepted  tlie  appoint- 
ment of  deputy  sheriff  with  a  resolute  spirit,  determined 
to  take  the  responsibility  of  enforcing  the  law. 

"Yes,  I  saw  Kate  coming  down  from  the  garrison  one 
day  with  some  prisoners  with  a  pistol  strapped  to  her  per- 


»196  A  Busy  Life 

son,"  said  Willis  IJoaliiiaii,  "Imt  I  do  not  n'iiicnil)er  what 
her  father  was  ii]i])risoiied  for." 

Scarcely  one  present  but  remembered  the  incident  "that 
seemed  like  a  dream  almost,"  in  the  lapse  of  forty-five 
years. 

I  remember  seeing  Kate  on  horseback,  while  acting  as 
deputy  sheriff  during  those  troublous  times,  and  liad  often 
thought  to  write  up  this  romantic  incident  of  real  stern 
pioneer  life,  but  space  will  not  permit  it  here,  further  than 
to  sa3''  that  the  responsibilities  of  the  office  were  inider- 
taken  from  a  sense  of  duty  and  luider  intense  loyalty  to 
her  father.  Both  now  lie  peacefully  under  the  sod  in  the 
county  in  which  their  lot  was  cast. 

"We  moved  out  to  my  father's  place  about  two  months 
after  the  outbreak  of  the  war,"  said  George  Dougherty. 
"The  Indians  sent  us  word  not  to  be  afi-aid — ^that  they 
would  not  hann  us.  I  had  lived  among  the  Indians  from 
childliood,  and  in  fact  had  learned  to  talk  the  Indian  lan- 
guage before  I  could  speak  my  mother  tongue.  At  that 
time  I  believe  there  were  twenty  Indians  to  where  there  is 
one  now.  Most  of  the  Indians  were  friendly.  Had  it  been 
otherAvise  they  could  have  wiped  out  the  white  settlement 
completely,  in  spite  of  the  military  volunteers." 

"Yes,  and  not  left  a  grease  spot  of  them,"  said  Mr. 
Rogers.  "But  the  fact  is,  tlie  Indians  did  not  want  to 
fight  the  whites,  but  were  dissatisfied  with  their  treat- 
ment by  the  government.  They  wanted  their  land  back, 
and  got  it,  too,  after  they  whipped  the  whites,  which  they 
did  this  side  of  the  mountains.  If  it  had  not  been  that  a 
majority  of  the  Indians  wore  in  favor  of  peace  with  the 
whites,  they  could  have  held  lliis  country  for  a  number 
of  years.  In  fact,  there  wei'(>  fifty  or  sixty  Indians  who 
fought  on  the  side  of  the  whites.  There  were  a  lot  of  whites 
who  intended  to  stay  out  on  their  ranches,  as  they  had 
perfect  confidence  in  the  Indians.  The  result  of  the  war 
was  that  the  Indians  got  all  that  they  contended  for.  The 
good  bottom  lands  had  been  taken  away  from  the  Indians 
and  they  had  been  given  the  woods.     This  was  done  to 


Vkntures  and  Adventures  197 

open  up  tlio  l)o11()iii  lauds  for  sc^ll lenient.  Notwitlisland- 
ing"  this,  many  oi;'  tlic  Indians  \v(!re  not  hostile  enough  to 
go  to  wai-.  Tlie  Indians  east  of  llie  mountains  initiated 
the  war  when  they  came  over  here  and  insisted  that  these 
Indians  drive  out  the  whites.  In  the  meantime  the  Indians 
were  given  their  lands  back  again.  The  Indians  killed  as 
uumy  whites  as  the  whites  killed  Indians.  They  had  been 
living  at  peace  with  the  whites  and  would  have  continued 
to  do  so  had  it  not  been  for  the  Indians  east  of  the  moun- 
tains. I  think  that  a  mean  advantage  of  the  Indians  was 
taken  at  that  treaty." 

"I  think  there  w^ere  as  many  whites  killed  this  side  of 
the  mountains  as  Indians,"  said  Mr.  Dougherty,  resuming; 
"and  there  would  have  l)een  no  war  had  the  Indians  been 
properly  treated.  I  remember  Leschi  and  his  band  passed 
down  through  the  prairie  nearby  father's  house,  but  did 
not  stop  to  disturb  us,  but  moved  on  to  Muckleshoot  and 
Green  River. ' ' 

"Yes,  I  remember  considerable  about  the  early  condition 
of  the  Indian  and  their  supply  of  food,  for  many  and 
many  is  the  time  that  I  have  enjoyed  their  hospitality 
and  partaken  of  the  various  forms  of  what  may  be  termed 
their  land  food  as  distinguished  from  fish.  This  w^as  varied 
and  abundant.  I  have  seen  trainloads  of  dried  caraas  and 
sunflower  roots  carried  by  their  ponies,  and  sometimes  by 
the  squaws  on  their  backs.  The  Indians  called  the  sun- 
flower roots  'kalse.'  It  has  now  become  almost  extinct, 
except  in  small  fields  where  it  is  protected.  Kalse  is  a 
small  root,  about  the  size  of  an  ordinary  carrot,  and  has 
a  yellow  flower  resembling  the  sunflower.  The  Indians 
would  dig  it  with  a  crooked  staif  of  ironwood  stick,  by 
twisting  the  stick  around  the  roots  and  using  it  as  a  lever 
to  pull  up  the  roots.  After  getting  a  sufficient  quantity 
of  this  sunflower  root  together  the  tops  of  the  roots  would 
be  nip})ed  off,  then  the  bark  would  be  beaten  off  and  a 
baking  place  arranged  in  a  hollow  in  the  ground,  with 
sallal  berry  twigs,  leaves  and  hemlock  boughs.  The  roots 
would  be  piled  up  rounding,  and  covered  over  with  the 


198  A  Busy  Life 

sallal  and  other  material,  and  the  whole  covered  with  earth. 
A  tire  would  be  made  over  the  ground  and  the  roasting 
would  occupy  three  or  four  days,  depending  upon  the  size 
of  the  pile.  After  the  end  of  three  or  four  days  the  re- 
maining coals  and  hot  ashes  would  be  removed  from  the 
top  of  the  pile,  and  there  would  be  exposed  the  steaming 
sunliower  roots.  The  roots  are  very  delicious  in  taste, 
though  I  cannot  compare  it  to  anything  now  in  use.  They 
also  made  a  liquor  from  its  roots  by  soaking,  which  was 
very  exhilarating  and  strengthening.  I  have  often  par- 
taken of  this  food  when  a  child.  There  was  another  food 
gathered  from  the  prairie,  which  the  Indians  called  'la- 
camas'  or  'camas'.  It  is  a  small  root,  about  the  size  of 
the  end  of  your  thumb,  and  has  a  stalk  that  shows  itself 
early  in  the  spring.  It  comes  up  as  two  leaves  folded  to- 
gether, and  as  it  progresses  in  growth  it  spreads.  From 
this  appears  a  stem  on  the  top  of  which  is  a  blue  flower. 
It  is  very  nutritious.  It  was  generally  prepared  in  large 
quantities  and  could  be  kept  until  the  following  year.  I 
have  alwaj's  thought  that  it  would  be  a  great  addition  to  our 
garden  products,  and  would  be  beneficial  to  us  as  a  health 
diet  generally.  The  Indians  who  used  it  were  generally 
very  healthy.  There  is  another  article  of  food  that  I  know 
the  Indian  name  for,  but  not  the  white  man's.  The  Indian 
name  is  'squelebs'.  It  grows  in  low,  marshy  places  and 
in  creeks  that  run  cold,  clear  water.  It  has  the  appearance 
of  the  wild  parsnip,  and  probably  is  a  species  of  it.  It 
grows  in  joints.  It  is  very  delicious  to  the  taste  in  its 
season  and  is  eaten  raw.  It  is  the  finest  nervine  that  I 
ever  used.  Then  comes  'kinnikinnick'  berries,  or  the  In- 
dian tobacco.  The  Indians  vnW  take  'kimiikinnick'  leaves, 
roast  them  until  brown,  and  then  mix  half  and  half  with 
tobacco,  when  it  makes  very  fine  smoking,  and  the  odor 
is  fragrant  and  very  acceptable.  It  has  an  influence  over 
the  smoker  like  opium  or  ether.  Some  Indians  that  I  have 
seen  using  it  would  keel  over  in  a  trance.  It  is  very  highly 
pi'ized  by  them.  The  berries  that  g7*ow  and  ripen  on  the 
'kinnikinnick'  when  ripe  ai'e  used  as  food  by  the  Indians 


Vkntures  and  Adventures  199 

by  mixing  them  with  dried  salmon  eggs,  and  have  the 
property  of  strengthening  to  an  abnormal  degree.  They 
also  nsed  the  yonng  spronts  of  the  wild  raspberry  and 
salmon  berry,  which  were  very  useful  in  cooling  the  system 
and  very  acceptable  to  the  palate.  There  was  another  food 
product  that  the  Indians  called  'charlaque'.  It  throws 
out  a  broad,  dark  green  leaf  on  one  side  of  the  stem,  and 
on  the  end  of  the  stem  there  is  a  bell-shaped  flower  of  a 
brownish  cast  on  the  outside,  and  on  the  inside  the  color 
is  orange,  mottled  with  brown  specks.  It  produces  a  flat 
root  about  the  size  of  an  ordinary  walnut  and  is  good 
either  raw  or  roasted.  It  grows  in  shady  places  and  near 
oak  bushes.  The  root  is  white.  There  is  also  a  species  of 
the  dandelion  which  has  a  very  delicate-tasting  root,  which 
was  eaten  either  raw  or  roasted.  It  is  something  similar  to 
the  wild  parsnip,  and  the  root  is  also  white.  When  the 
root  is  broken  it  exudes  a  milk  which  is  an  excellent  cure 
for  warts.  Another  food  plant  was  the 'wapato'.  It  grows 
in  swampy  places  and  sends  its  roots  into  the  water.  It 
grows  luxuriantly  in  such  places,  and  the  tubers  of  the 
'wapato'  were  highly  prized  by  the  Indians  and  could  be 
eaten  either  raw  or  cooked.  It  had  a  delicate  and  pungent 
taste  that  was  very  acceptable  to  the  palate.  By  this  you 
will  see  that  the  Indians  had  a  variety  of  food,  when  one 
takes  into  consideration  the  wild  fruits,  fish  and  game  in 
which  the  country  abounded. ' ' 

Peter  Smith  said:  "AVe  were  crossing  the  plains  in  1852 
when  Spotted  Tail  with  about  thirty  warriors,  fresh  from 
the  Crow  war,  rode  up  to  our  camp  early  one  morning.  I 
was  cooking  breakfast  for  our  party,  and  I  tell  you  I  was 
pretty  well  scared,  but  I  thought  to  offer  them  something 
to  eat  and  after  sevei-al  attempts,  made  them  understand 
what  I  wanted,  and  finally  gave  them  all  a  breakfast  of 
bread  and  sugar  and  coffee.  When  they  first  came  they  sat 
on  their  hoi'ses  with  feathers  in  their  hair,  and  said  nothing 
to  me  and  nothing  to  each  other,  and  I  really  though  my 
time  had  come.  After  they  had  eaten  theii-  breakfast  they 
went  on  up  the  Platte  River  toward  Fort  Laramie.    After 


200  A  Busy  Life 

we  had  traveled  about  three  hundred  miles  we  camped  in 
the  vicinity  of  a  large  Indian  force  under  the  control  of 
Spotted  Tail.  I  was  with  a  group  of  men  that  had  gathered 
when  I  felt  a  tug  at  my  coat  tail.  T  looked  around  quickly 
but  saw  no  one,  so  T  went  on  speaking  to  the  man  that  I 
had  been  talking  to.  Pretty  soon  T  felt  another  tug,  and 
looking  around  saw  an  Indian,  whom  I  recognized  as  the 
leader  of  tlie  band  that  had  eaten  breakfast  at  our  camp 
a  few  days  before.  The  Indian  told  me  that  his  name  was 
Spotted  Tail,  and  that  he  wanted  me  to  come  to  his  camp 
a  few  miles  away.  I  told  him  I  would  go.  Although  the 
others  in  our  party  tried  to  dissuade  me  from  the  under- 
taking, I  went.  The  chief  treated  me  with  great  kindness 
and  hospitality.  He  was  a  tall,  athletic  Indian,  and  his 
daughters  were  very  pretty,  having  regular  features  and 
black  hair.  I  returned  to  the  train  well  pleased  with  my 
visit.  Forty  years  after,  while  at  the  world's  fair,  I  met 
a  young  man  who  had  some  office  at  Fort  Laramie,  which 
post  Spotted  Tail  often  visited.  He  told  me  that  Spotted 
Tail  often  in(|uired  about  me,  said  that  he  had  never  been 
so  well  treated  by  a  white  man  in  his  life,  and  expressed 
a  desire  to  have  me  come  and  see  him.  I  was  very  sorry 
that  I  never  went  through  the  reservation  where  Spotted 
Tail  lived  to  stop  off  and  see  him." 

"The  Indians  have  massacred  all  the  white  settlers  on 
White  River  and  are  coming  down  on  us  here  in  Puy- 
allup,"  was  passed  from  house  to  house  on  that  fateful 
October  day  of  1855.  Mrs.  AVoolery  and  ]\Irs.  Boatman 
were  the  only  survivors  present  at  the  reunion  who  ^vit- 
nessed  the  scenes  that  followed.  Some  had  wagons ;  some 
had  none.  Strive  as  best  they  could,  they  only  got  across 
the  river  the  first  day.  Two  canoes  were  lashed  together 
and  the  wagons  ferried  across,  after  being  first  taken  apart. 
The  trip  out  the  next  day  was  made  on  foot,  the  women 
carrying  the  young  children  on  their  backs.  Then  came 
the  volunteer  company  a  week  later  to  rescue  the  provi- 
sions, stock,  clothing  and  other  pro])erty  that  had  been 
abandoned.     This  party  consisted  of  the  settlei-s  of  the 


Venture?  and  Adventures  201 

valley,  with  a  few  others — nineteen  in  all.  The  author 
was  one  of  the  "others,"  not  having  yet  settled  in  the 
valley.  As  we  went  in  by  the  "lower"  road  the  column 
of  United  States  troops  and  volunteers  abandoned  the  field 
and  withdrew  by  the  "upper"  road,  leaving  our  little 
band  in  utter  ignorance  of  our  danger  for  four  days,  when 
we  crossed  the  trail  of  the  retreating  column,  which  we 
afterwards  leai-ned  had  halted  at  Montgomery's,  at  the 
edge  of  the  prairie.  Our  women  folks  were  disturbed  at 
our  long  stay,  and  the  troops  were  under  orders  to  advance 
to  our  rescue,  when  lo !  and  behold !  at  nightfall  on  the 
sixth  day  we  returned,  loaded  with  property  and  provi- 
sions, in  most  cases  l)eing  all  the  possessions  of  the  owners 
who  formed  a  part  of  the  company,  and  there  was  great 
joy  in  camp.  Not  an  Indian  had  been  seen  nor  a  shot 
fired,  except  to  empty  our  guns  to  make  sure  that  they 
would  "go,"  as  some  of  the  men  quaintly  expressed  it. 

After  looking  back  over  the  vista  of  years,  none  of  the 
party  could  say  that  life  had  been  a  failure ;  there  was  the 
lady  bordering  close  on  eighty  years ;  the  gentleman  eighty- 
four  and  past  (Peter  Smith),  with  the  "kids"  of  the  party 
past  the  sixty-eighth  mark,  yet  one  would  scarcely  ever 
meet  a  more  cheerful  and  merry  party  than  this  of  the 
reunion  of  the  old  settlers  of  1855.* 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A   CHAPTER  ON   NAMES. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  that  in- 
trei)id  American  traveler,  Jonathan  Carver,  wrote  these  im- 
mortal words: 

"From  the  intelligence  I  gained  from  the  Naudowessie 
Indians,  among  whom  I  aridved  on  the  7th  of  December 
(1776),  and  whose  language  I  perfectly  acquired  during 

*Since  this  meeting  in  June,  1904,  all  of  the  ten  pioneers  that  comprised  the  party 
have  died,  prior  to  the  writing  of  this  note,  except  the  author  and  one  other. 


202  A  Busy  Life 

a  resideuee  of  five  mouths,  and  also  from  the  accounts  I 
afterwards  obtained  from  the  Assiuipoils,  who  speak  the 
same  tongue,  being  a  revolted  band  of  the  Naudowessies ; 
and  from  tlie  Killistinoes,  neighbors  of  the  Assiuipoils,  who 
speak  the  Chipeway  language  and  inhalut  the  heads  of  the 
River  Bourbon ;  I  say  from  these  natives,  together  with 
my  own  observations,  I  have  learned  that  the  four  most 
capital  rivers  on  the  continent  of  North  America,  viz. : 
the  St.  La^vrence,  the  Mississippi,  the  River  Bourbon  and 
the  Oregon,  or  the  River  of  the  West  (as  T  hinted  in  my 
introduction),  have  their  sources  in  the  same  neighborhood. 
The  waters  of  the  three  former  are  within  thirty  miles  of 
each  other;  the  latter,  however,  is  further  west." 

All  students  of  history  acknowledge  tliis  is  the  first  men- 
tion of  the  word  Oregon  in  English  literature.  The  nar 
rative  quoted  was  insjured  by  his  observations  on  the  upper 
Mississippi,  and  particularly  upon  the  event  of  reaching 
his  farthest  point,  sixty  miles  above  the  Falls  of  St.  An- 
thony, November  17th,  1776.  This  was  the  farthest  up 
the  Mississippi  that  the  white  man  had  ever  penetrated, 
"So  that  we  are  obliged  solely  to  the  Indians  for  all  the 
intelligence  we  are  able  to  give  i-elative  to  the  more  north- 
ern parts,"  and  yet  this  man,  seemingly  with  prophetic 
sight,  discovered  the  great  river  of  the  West,  attemi)ted 
to  name  it,  and  coined  a  word  for  the  purpose.  While 
Carver  missed  his  mark  and  did  not  succeed  in  affixing  the 
new-born  name  to  the  great  river  he  saw  in  his  vision,  yet 
the  word  became  immortal  through  the  mighty  empire  for 
which  it  afterwards  stood.  Carv^er  made  no  explanation  as 
to  where  the  woi'd  Oi'egon  came  from,  but  wrote  as  though 
it  was  well  l<nown  like  tlie  other  rivers  mentioned.  Prob- 
ably for  all  time  the  origin  of  this  name  with  be  a  mystery. 

We  have  a  like  curious  phenomenon  in  the  case  of  Win- 
throp  first  writing  the  word  Tacoma,  in  September,  1853. 
None  of  the  old  settlers  had  heard  that  name,  either  through 
the  Indians  or  otherwise,  until  after  the  publication  of 
Winthrop's  work  ten  years  later,  "The  Canoe  and  the 
Saddh',"    when    i(    became    connnon    knowledge    and    was 


Ventures  and  Adventures  203 

locally  applied  in  01yin])ia  as  early  as  1866,  said  to  have 
been  suggested  by  Edward  (iiddings  of  that  place. 

Ilowevei",  as  Winthrop  distinctly  claimed  to  have  ob- 
tained the  word  from  the  Indians,  the  fact  was  accepted 
by  the  reading  public,  and  the  Indians  soon  took  their  cne 
from  their  white  neighbors. 

It  is  an  interesting  coincident  that  almost  within  a 
stone's  throw  of  where  Winthrop  coined  the  name  that  we 
find  it  applied  to  the  locality  that  has  grown  to  be  the 
gr'eat  city  of  Tacoraa. 

On  the  26th  of  October,  1868,  John  W.  Ackerson  located 
a  mill  site  on  Commencement  Bay,  within  the  present 
limits  of  the  city  of  Tacoma,  and  applied  the  name  to  his 
mill.  He  said  he  had  gotten  it  from  Chief  Spot  of  the 
Pnyallup  tribe,  who  claimed  it  was  the  Indian  name  for 
the  moinitain.  Rainier. 

The  word  or  name  Seattle  was  unknown  when  the  found- 
ers of  this  city  first  began  to  canvass  the  question  of  select- 
ing a  site  for  the  town,  and  some  time  elapsed  before  a 
name  was  coined  out  of  the  word  se-alth. 

Se-alth,  or  Seattle,  as  he  was  afterwards  known,  was 
reported  to  be  the  chief  of  six  tribes  or  bands,  but  at  best 
bis  control  was  like  most  all  the  chiefs  on  the  Sound,  but 
shadom'. 

Arthur  Denny  says  that  "we  (meaning  himself,  Boren 
and  Bell)  canvassed  the  question  as  to  a  name  and  agreed 
to  call  the  place  Seattle,  after  the  old  chief"  (Se-alth),  but 
we  have  no  definte  information  as  to  when  the  change  in 
the  old  chief's  name  took  place.  Se-alth  was  quite  dis- 
turbed to  have  his  name  trifled  with  and  appropriated  by 
the  whites,  and  was  quite  willing  to  levy  a  tribute  by  per- 
suasion upon  the  good  people  of  the  embryo  city. 

T  have  anothei*  historic  name  to  wnite  about,  Pnyallup, 
that  we  know  is  of  Indian  origin — as  old  as  the  memory 
of  the  white  man  runs.  But  such  a  name!  I  consider  it 
no  honor  to  the  man  who  named  the  town  (now  city)  of 
Pnyallup.  I  accept  the  odium  attached  to  inflicting  that 
name  on  suffering  succeeding  generations  by  first  platting 


204  A  Busy  Life 

a  few  blocks  of  land  into  village  lots  and  recording  them 
under  the  name  Puyallup.  L  have  been  ashamed  of  the 
act  ever  since.  The  fiist  time  I  went  East  after  the  town 
was  named  and  said  to  a  friend  in  New  York  that  our 
town  was  named  Puyallup  he  seemed  startled. 

"Named  what?"  ' 

"Puyallup,"  I  said,  emjjhasizing  the  word. 

"That's  a  jaw  breaker,"  came  the  res}ionse.  "How  do 
you  spell  it?" 

"P-u-y-a-l-l-u-p,"  I  said. 

"Let  me  see — how  did  you  say  you  pronounced  itf" 

Pouting  out  my  lips  like  a  veritable  Siwash,  and  em- 
phasizing every  letter  and  syllable  so  as  to  bring  out  the 
Pcuw  for  Puy,  and  the  strong  em})hasis  on  the  al,  and 
cracking  my  lips  together  to  cut  otf  the  lup,  T  finally  drilled 
my  friend  so  he  could  pronounce  the  word,  yet  fell  short 
of  the  elegance  of  the  scientific  ])ronunciation. 

Then  when  T  crossed  the  Atlantic  and  across  the  old 
London  bridge  to  the  Borough,  and  there  encountered  the 
factors  of  the  hop  trade  on  that  historic  ground,  the  haunts 
of  Dickens  in  his  day;  and  when  we  were  bid  to  be  seated 
to  ])artake  of  the  viands  of  an  elegant  dinner;  and  when 
1  saw  the  troul)led  look  of  my  friend,  whose  lot  it  was  to 
introduce  me  to  the  assembled  hop  merchants,  and  knew 
what  Avas  weighing  on  his  mind,  my  sympathy  went  out 
to  him  but  remained  helpless  to  aid  him. 

"I  say — I  say — let  me  introduce  to  you  my  American 
friend — my  American  friend  from — my  American  friend 
from — from — from — ' ' 

And  when,  with  an  imploring  look  he  visibly  a|)pealed  to 
me  for  help,  and  finally  blurted  out : 

"I  say,  Meeker,  I  cawn't  remember  that  blarstetl  name 
—what  IS  it?" 

And  when  the  explosion  of  mirth  came  with : 

"All  the  same,  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow — a  jolly  good 
fellow." 

I  say,  when  all  this  had  happened,  and  nuich  more  be- 
sides, I  could  yet  feel  resigned  to  my  fate. 


Ventures  and  Adventuues  205 

Then  when  at  Dawsou  I  could  hear  the  shrill  whistle 
from  the  wonld-he  wag-,  inid  hear : 

"He's  all  the  way  from  Puy-al-lup,"  I  could  yet  remain 
in  composure. 

Then  when,  at  night  at  the  theaters,  the  jesters  would 
say  : 

"Whar  was  it,  stranger,  you  said  you  was  from?" 

''^Puy-al-lup!" 

"Oh,  you  did?"  followed  by  roars  of  laughter  all  over 
the  house.  And  all  this  1  could  hear  with  seeming  equa- 
nimity. 

But  when  letters  began  to  come  addressed  "Pew-lupe," 
"Polly-pup,"  "Pull-all-up,"  "Pewl-a-loop,"  and  finally 
"Pay-all-up,"  then  my  cup  of  sorrow  was  full  and  I  was 
ready  to  put  on  sackcloth  and  ashes. 

The  name  for  the  town,  however,  came  about  in  this  way : 
In  the  early  days  we  had  a  postoffice,  Franklin.  Some- 
times it  was  on  one  side  of  the  river  and  then  again  on 
the  other ;  sometimes  way  to  one  side  of  the  settlement  and 
then  again  to  the  other.  It  was  not  much  trouble  those 
days  to  move  a  postoffice.  One  could  almost  carry  the 
whole  outfit  in  one's  pocket. 

We  were  all  tired  of  the  name  Franklin,  for  there  were 
so  many  Franklins  that  our  mail  Avas  continually  being 
sent  astray.  We  agreed  there  never  would  be  but  one  Puy- 
allup ;  and  in  that  we  were  unquestionably  right,  for  surely 
there  will  never  be  another. 

Nevertheless,  people  would  come  and  settle  with  us. 
Where  the  big  stumps  and  trees  stood  and  occupied  the 
ground,  we  now  have  brick  blocks  and  solid  streets.  Where 
the  cabins  stood,  now  quite  pretentious  residences  have 
arisen.  The  old  log-cabin  school  house  has  given  way  to 
three  large  houses,  where  now  near  twelve  hundred  scholars 
are  in  attendance,  instead  of  but  eleven,  as  at  first.  And 
still  the  people  came  and  built  a  hundred  houses  last  year, 
(iach  contributing  their  mite  to  perpetuating  the  name 
Puyallup.  Puyallup  has  been  my  home  for  forty  years, 
and  it  is  but  natural  I  should  love  the  place,  even  if  I 
cannot  revere  the  name. 


206  A  Busy  Life 

CHAPTER  XXXTT. 

PIONEER    RELTGTOT'S    EXl'ERTENCES    AND    INCIDENTS. 

If  we  were  to  confine  the  word  religion  to  its  strict 
construction  as  to  meaning,  we  would  cnt  off  the  pioneer 
actions  under  this  heading  to  a  great  extent;  but,  if  we 
will  think  of  the  definition  as  applied  to  morality,  the 
duties  of  man  to  man,  to  character  building — then  the 
field  is  rich.  Many  of  the  pioneers,  necessarily  cut  loose 
from  church  organizations,  were  not  eager  to  enter  again 
into  their  old  affiliations,  though  their  conduct  showed  a 
truly  religious  spirit.  There  were  many  who  were  out- 
side the  fold  before  they  left  their  homes,  and  such,  as  a 
class,  remained  as  they  were ;  but  many  showed  a  sincere 
purpose  to  do  right  according  to  the  light  that  was  in 
them,  and  who  shall  say  that  if  the  spirit  that  prompted 
them  was  their  duty  to  man,  that  such  were  not  as  truly 
religious  as  if  the  higher  spiritual  motives  moved  them? 

We  had,  though,  many  earnest  workers,  whose  zeal  never 
abated,  w^ho  felt  it  a  duty  to  save  souls,  and  w^ho  preached 
to  others  incessantly,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  and  whose 
work,  be  it  said,  exercised  a  good  influence  over  the  minds 
of  the  people. 

One  instance  I  have  in  mind — Father  Weston,  who  came 
at  irregular  intervals  to  Puyallup,  M^hose  energy  would 
make  amends  for  his  lack  of  eloquence,  and  whose  example 
would  add  weight  to  his  precepts.  He  was  a  good  man. 
Almost  everyone  would  go  to  hear  him,  although  it  was 
in  everybody's  mouth  that  h^  could  not  preach.  He  would 
make  up  in  noise  and  fervency  what  he  lacked  in  logic 
and  eloquence.  Positively,  one  could  often  hear  him  across 
a  ten-acre  lot  wlien  he  would  preach  in  a  grove,  and  would 
pound  his  improvised  pulpit  with  as  much  vigor  as  he 
would  his  weld  on  his  anvil  week  days. 

One  time  the  old  man  came  to  the  valley,  made  his  head- 
quarters near  where  the  town  of  Sumner  now  is,  induced 
other  ministers  to  join  him,  and  entered  on  a  crusade,  a 


Ventures  and  Adventures  207 

protracted  union  meeting,  with  the  old-lime  mourners' 
bench,  amen  corner  and  shouting  members.  When  the 
second  Sunday  came  the  crowd  was  so  great  that  the  win- 
dows were  taken  out  of  the  little  school  house,  and  more 
than  half  the  people  sat  or  reclined  on  the  ground,  or 
wagons  drawn  nearby,  to  listen  to  the  noisy  scene  inside 
the  house. 

A  peculiar  couple,  whom  I  knew  well,  had  attended  from 
a  distance,  the  husband,  a  frail,  little  old  man,  intensely 
and  fervently  religious,  while  the  wife,  who  was  a  specimen 
of  strong  womanhood,  had  never  been  able  to  see  her  way 
clear  to  join  the  church.  Aunt  Ann  (she  is  still  living), 
either  from  excitement  or  to  please  the  husband,  went  to 
the  mourners'  bench  and  made  some  profession  that  led 
Uncle  John,  the  husband,  to  believe  the  wife  had  at  last 
got  religion.  Upon  their  return  home  the  good  lady  soon 
began  wavering,  desjnte  the  urgent  appeals  from  the  hus- 
l)and,  and  finally  blurted  out : 

"Well,  John,  I  don't  believe  there  is  such  a  place  as  hell, 
anyhow." 

This  was  too  much  for  the  hus])and,  who,  in  a  fit  of  sheer 
desperation,  said : 

"Well,  well,  Ann,  you  wait  and  you'll  see."  And  the 
good  lady,  now  past  eighty-four,  is  waiting  yet,  but  the 
good  little  husband  has  long  since  gone  to  spy  out  the 
unknown  land. 

I  have  known  this  lady  now  for  fifty  years,  and  although 
she  has  never  made  a  profession  of  religion  or  joined  a 
church,  yet  there  has  been  none  more  ready  to  help  a 
neighbor  or  to  minister  to  the  sick,  or  open  the  door  of 
genuine  hospitality  than  this  same  uncouth,  rough-spoken 
pioneer  woman. 

I  recall  one  couple,  man  and  wife,  who  came  among  us 
of  the  true  and  faithful,  to  preach  and  practice  the  Baptist 
Christian  religion.  I  purposely  add  "Christian,"  for  if 
ever  in  these  later  years  two  people  embodied  the  true 
Christ-like  spirit,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wickser  did — lived  their 
religion  and  made  their  professions  manifest  by  their  work. 


208  A  Busy  Life 

Mrs.  Wickser  was  a  very  tall  lady  of  ordinary  appear- 
ance as  to  features,  while  the  husband  was  short  and 
actually  deformed.  The  disparity  in  their  heights  was  so 
great  that  as  they  stood  or  walked  side  by  side  he  could 
have  gone  beneath  her  outstretched  arm.  Added  to  this 
peculiar  appearance,  like  a  woman  and  a  boy  of  ten  years 
parading  as  man  and  wife,  the  features  of  the  little  man 
riveted  one's  attention.  With  a  low  forehead,  flattened 
nose,  and  swarthy  complexion,  one  could  not  determine 
whether  he  was  white  or  part  red  and  black,  Chinaman  or 
wliat  not ;  as  Dr.  AVeed  said  to  me  in  a  whisper  when  he 
first  caught  sight  of  his  features :  ' '  What,  is  that  the  miss- 
ing link?"  In  truth,  the  doctor  was  so  surprised  that 
he  was  only  half  in  jest,  not  at  the  time  knowing  the 
"creature,"  as  he  said,  was  the  Baptist  minister  of  the 
place. 

But,  as  time  went  on,  the  strangeness  of  his  features 
wore  off,  and  the  beauty  of  his  character  began  to  shine 
more  and  more,  until  there  were  none  more  respected  and 
loved  than  this  couple,  by  those  who  had  come  to  know 
them. 

A  small  factory  had  been  established  not  far  from  the 
schoolhouse,  where  we  had  our  Christmas  tree.  Some  of 
the  men  from  the  factory  took  it  into  their  heads  to  play 
what  they  called  a  joke  on  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  by  placing 
on  the  tree  a  large  bundle  pu importing  to  be  a  present,  but 
Avhich  they  innocently  opened  and  found  to  contain  a  direct 
insult. 

The  little  man,  it  could  be  seen,  was  deeply  mortified, 
yet  made  no  sign  of  resentment,  although  it  soon  became 
known  who  the  parties  were,  but  treated  them  with  such 
forl)earance  and  kindness  that  they  became  so  ashamed  of 
themselves  as  to  inspire  better  conduct,  and  so  that  night 
the  most  substantial  contribution  of  the  season  was  quietly 
deposited  at  the  good  missionary's  door,  and  ever  after  that 
all  alike  treated  them  with  the  greatest  respect. 

I  have  known  this  couple  to  walk  through  storm  as  well 
as  sunshine,  on  roads  or  on  trails,  for  miles  around,  visit- 


Vkntitres  and  Adventurer  209 

ing  the  pioneers  as  i'ci»ulcirly  as  the  week  came,  ministering 
to  tlie  wants  of  the  sick,  if  perehanee  there  were  such, 
cheering  the  discouraged  or  lending  a  helping  hand  where 
needed,  veritable  good  Samaritans  as  they  were,  a  credit 
to  our  race  by  the  exhibition  of  the  spirit  within  them. 

Take  the  case  of  George  Bush,  the  negro,  who  refused 
to  sell  his  crop  to  speculators  for  cash,  yet  distributed  it 
freely  to  the  immigrants  who  had  come  later,  without 
money  and  without  price.  Also  Sidney  Ford,  another  early, 
rugged  settler,  although  neither  of  them  church  members. 
Who  will  dare  say  theirs  were  not  religious  acts  ? 

In  response  to  a  letter,  the  following  characteristic  reply 
from  one  of  the  McAuley  sisters  will  be  read  with  interest, 
as  showing  "the  other  sort"  of  pioneer  religious  experi- 
ence, and  following  this,  the  brother's  response  about  the 
"mining  camp  brand."     She  writes: 

"And  now  as  to  your  question  in  a  former  letter,  in 
regard  to  religious  exj^eriences  of  pioneers.  Tom  had 
written  me  just  before  your  letter  came,  asking  me  if  I 
had  heard  from  friend  Meeker  and  wife.  I  told  him  of 
your  letter  and  asked  him  if  he  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing 
as  religious  experience  among  pioneers.  I  enclose  his  an- 
swer, which  is  characteristic  of  him.  The  first  church  service 
I  attended  in  California  was  in  a  saloon,  and  the  congrega- 
tion, comprising  nearly  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  place,  was 
attentive  and  orderly.  I  think  the  religion  of  the  pioneers 
was  carried  in  their  hearts,  and  bore  its  fruit  in  honesty 
and  charity  rather  than  in  outward  forms  and  ceremonies. 
T  remember  an  instance  on  the  plains.  Your  brother,  0.  P., 
had  a  deck  of  cards  in  his  vest  pocket.  Sister  Margaret 
smiled  and  said:  'Your  pocket  betrays  you.'  'Do  you 
think  it  a  betrayal?'  said  he.  'If  I  thought  it  was  wrong 
I  would  not  use  them. '    Here  is  Brother  Tom 's  letter : 

"  'Why,  of  course,  I  have  seen  as  well  as  heard  of  pioneer 

religious  experiences.    But  I  expect  the  California  mining 

camp  brand  differed  some  from  the  Washington  brand  for 

agricultural  use,  because  the  mining  camp  was  liable  to 

15—1958 


210  A  Busy  Life 

lose  at  short  notice  all  its  inhabitants  on  discovery  of  new 
diggings. ' 

"So,  of  course,  large  church  buildings  for  exclusively 
church  purposes  were  out  of  the  question  as  impossible. 
And  the  only  public  buildings  available  were  the  saloons 
and  gambling  halls,  whose  doors,  like  the  gates  of  perdi- 
tion, were  always  open,  day  and  night  alike,  to  all,  saint  or 
sinner,  who  chose  to  enter,  and  having  entered,  had  his 
rights  as  well  as  his  duties  well  understood,  and,  if  need 
be,  promptly  enforced." 

John  McLeod  used  to  almost  invariably  get  gloriously 
drunk  whenever  he  came  to  Steilacoom,  which  was  quite 
often,  and  generally  would  take  a  gallon  keg  home  with 
him  full  of  the  vile  stuff.  And  yet  this  man  was  a  regular 
reader  of  his  Bible,  and,  I  am  told  by  those  who  knew  his 
habits  best,  read  his  chapter  as  regularly  as  he  drank  his 
gill  of  whisky,  or  perhaps  more  regularly,  as  the  keg  would 
at  times  become  dry,  while  his  Bible  never  failed  him.  I 
have  his  old,  well-thumbed  Gaelic  Bible,  with  its  title  page 
of  1828,  which  he  brought  with  him  to  this  country  in 
1833,  and  used  until  his  failmg  sight  compelled  the  use  of 
another  of  coarser  print. 

I  am  loth  to  close  this  (to  me)  interesting  chapter,  but 
my  volume  is  full  and  overflowing  and  T  am  admonished 
not  to  pursue  the  subject  further.  A  full  volume  might  be 
written  and  yet  not  exhause  this  interesting  subject. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

WIliD   ANIMALS. 

I  will  write  this  chapter  for  the  youngsters  and  the 
elderly  wise-heads  who  wear  specs  may  turn  over  the  leaves 
without  reading  it,  if  they  choose. 

Wild  animals  in  early  days  were  very  much  more  plenti- 
fid  tlinii  now.  particularly  deer  and  black  bear.  The  black 
bear  troubled  us  a  good   deal   and    Avould   ("(mie  near  the 


Ventures  and  Adventures  211 

lioiises  and  kill  our  pigs;  but  it  did  not  take  many  years 
to  tliin  them  out.  They  were  very  cowardly  and  would 
run  away  from  us  in  the  thick  brush  except  when  the 
young  cubs  were  with  them,  and  then  we  had  to  be  more 
careful. 

There  was  one  animal,  the  cougar,  we  felt  might  be 
dangerous,  but  I  never  saw  but  one  in  the  woods.  Before 
I  tell  you  about  it  I  will  relate  an  adventure  one  of  my 
own  little  girls  had  \^'ith  one  of  these  creatures  nearby  our 
own  home  in  the  Puyallup  Valley. 

I  have  MTitten  elsewhere  about  our  little  log  cabin  school- 
house,  but  have  not  told  how  our  children  got  to  it.  From 
our  house  to  the  schoolhouse  the  trail  led  through  veiy 
heavy  timber  and  very  heavy  underbrush — so  dense  that 
most  all  the  way  one  could  not  see,  in  the  summer  time 
when  the  leaves  were  on,  as  far  as  across  the  kitchen  of 
the  house. 

One  day  little  Carrie,  now  an  elderly  lady  (I  won't  say 
how  old),  now  living  in  Seattle,  started  to  go  to  school, 
but  soon  came  running  back  out  of  breath. 

"Mamma!  Mamma!  I  saw  a  great  big  cat  sharpening 
his  claws  on  a  great  big  tree,  just  like  pussy  does,"  she 
said  as  soon  as  she  could  catch  her  breath.  Sure  enough, 
upon  examination,  there  were  the  marks  as  high  up  on 
the  tree  as  I  could  reach.  It  must  have  been  a  big  one  to 
reach  up  the  tree  that  far.  But  the  incident  soon  dropped 
out  of  mind  and  the  children  went  to  school  on  the  trail 
just  the  same  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

The  way  I  happened  to  see  the  cougar  was  this:  Lew. 
^McMillan  bought  one  hundred  and  sixty-one  cattle  and 
drove  them  from  Oregon  to  v;hat  we  then  used  to  call 
Upper  White  River,  but  it  was  the  present  site  of  Auburn. 
He  had  to  swim  his  cattle  over  all  the  rivers,  and  his  horses, 
too,  and  then  at  the  last  day's  drive  brought  them  on  the 
divide  between  Stuck  River  and  the  Sound.  The  cattle 
were  all  very  tame  when  he  took  them  into  the  White  River 
valley,  for  thej^  were  tired  and  hungry.  At  that  time 
White  River  vallev  ^vas  covered  with  brush  and  timber 


212  A  Busy  Life 

except  here  and  there  a  small  prairie.  The  upper  part  of 
the  valley  was  grown  up  with  tall,  coarse  rushes  that  re- 
mained green  all  winter,  and  so  he  didn't  have  to  feed 
his  cattle,  but  they  got  nice  and  fat  long  before  spring. 
We  bought  them  and  agreed  to  take  twenty  head  at  a 
time.  By  this  time  the  cattle  were  nearly  as  wild  as  deer. 
So  Lew.  built  a  very  strong  corral  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
near  where  Auburn  is  now,  and  then  made  a  brush  fence 
from  one  corner  down  river  Ava.y,  which  made  it  a  sort  of 
lane,  with  the  fence  on  one  side  and  the  river  on  the  other, 
and  gradually  widened  out  as  he  got  further  from  the 
corral. 

I  used  to  go  over  fi-om  Steilacoom  and  stay  all  night  so 
we  could  make  a  di-ive  into  the  corral  early,  but  this  time 
I  was  belated  and  had  to  camp  on  the  road,  so  that  we 
did  not  get  an  early  start  for  the  next  day's  drive.  The 
cattle  seemed  unruly  that  day,  and  when  we  let  them  out 
of  the  corral  up  river  way,  they  scattered  and  we  could 
do  nothing  with  them.  The  upshot  of  the  matter  was  that 
I  had  to  go  home  without  cattle.  We  had  worked  with 
the  cattle  so  long  that  it  was  very  late  before  I  got  started 
and  had  to  go  on  foot.  At  that  time  the  valley  above 
Auburn  near  the  Stuck  River  crossing  was  filled  with  a 
dense  forest  of  monster  fir  and  cedar  trees,  and  a  good 
deal  of  underbrush  besides.  That  forest  was  so  dense  in 
places  that  it  w^as  difficult  to  see  the  road,  even  on  a  bright, 
sunshiny  day,  while  on  a  cloudy  day  it  seemed  almost  like 
night,  though  T  could  see  well  enough  to  keep  on  the 
crooked  trail  all  right. 

AVell,  just  before  I  got  to  Stuck  River  crossing  I  came 
to  a  turn  in  the  trail  where  it  crossed  the  top  of  a  big  fir 
which  had  been  turned  up  by  the  roots  and  had  fallen 
nearly  parallel  with  the  trail.  The  big  roots  held  the  butt 
of  the  tree  up  from  the  ground,  and  1  think  the  tree  was 
four  feet  in  diameter  a  hundred  feet  from  the  butt,  and 
the  whole  l)ody,  from  root  to  top,  was  eighty-four  steps 
long,  or  about  two  hiuidred  and  fifty  feet.       I  have  seen 


Vkntfres  and  Adventures  213 

longer  trees,  though,  and  biggei-  ones,  but  there  were  a 
great  many  like  tliis  one  standing  all  around  about  me. 

I  didn't  stop  to  step  it  then,  but  you  may  be  sure  I  took 
some  pretty  long  strides  about  that  time.  Just  as  I  stepped 
over  the  fallen  ti'ee  near  the  top  I  saw  something  move  on 
the  big  body  near  the  roots,  and  sure  enough  the  thing  was 
coming  right  toward  me.  In  an  instant  I  realized  what  it 
was.  It  was  a  tremendous,  great  big  cougar.  He  was  very 
pretty,  but  did  not  look  very  nice  to  me.  I  had  just  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  a  man  living  near  the  Chehalis  telling 
me  of  three  lank,  lean  cougars  coming  into  his  clearing 
where  he  was  at  work,  and  when  he  started  to  go  to  his 
cabin  to  get  his  gun  the  brutes  started  to  follow  him,  and 
he  just  only  escaped  into  his  house,  with  barely  time  to 
slam  the  door  shut.  He  wrote  that  his  dogs  had  gotten 
them  on  the  run  by  the  time  he  was  ready  with  his  gun, 
and  he  finally  killed  all  three  of  them.  He  found  they 
were  literally  starving  and  had,  he  thought,  recently  robbed 
an  Indian  grave,  or  rather  an  Indian  canoe  that  hung  in 
the  trees  with  their  dead  in  it.  That  is  the  way  the  Indians 
used  to  dispose  of  their  dead,  but  I  haven't  time  to  tell 
al)out  that  now.  This  man  found  bits  of  cloth,  some  hair, 
and  a  piece  of  bone  in  the  stomach  of  one  of  them,  so  he 
felt  sure  he  was  right  in  his  surmise,  and  I  think  he  was, 
too.  I  sent  this  man's  letter  to  the  paper,  the  Olympia 
Transcript,  and  it  was  prmted  at  the  time,  but  I  have  for- 
gotten his  name. 

Well,  I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  I  had  no  gun  witli 
me,  and  I  knew  perfectly  well  there  was  no  use  to  run. 
I  knew,  too,  that  I  could  not  do  as  Mr.  Stocking  did, 
grapple  with  it  and  kick  it  to  death.  This  one  confront 
ing  me  was  a  monstrous  big  one — at  least  it  looked  so  to 
me.  I  expect  it  looked  bigger  than  it  really  was.  Was 
I  scared,  did  you  say?  Did  you  ever  have  creepers  run 
up  your  back  and  right  to  the  roots  of  your  hair,  and 
nearly  to  the  top  of  your  head?  Yes,  I'll  warrant  you 
have,  though  a  good  many  fellows  won't  acknowledge  it 
and  say  it's  only  cowards  that  feel  that   way.     Maybe; 


214  A  Busy  Life 

but,  anyway,  I  don't  want  to  meet  wild  cougars  in  the 
timber. 

Mr.  Stocking,  whom  I  spoke  about,  lived  about  ten  miles 
from  Olympia  at  Glasgow's  place.  He  was  walking  on 
the  prairie  and  had  a  stout  yoiuig  dog  with  him,  and  came 
suddenly  upon  a  cougar  lying  in  a  comer  of  the  fence. 
His  dog  tackled  the  brute  at  once,  but  was  no  match  for 
him,  and  would  soon  have  killed  him  if  Stocking  had  not 
interfered.  Mr.  Stocking  gathered  on  to  a  big  club  and 
struck  the  cougar  one  heavy  blow  over  the  back,  but  the 
stick  broke  and  the  cougar  left  the  dog  and  attacked  his 
master.  And  so  it  was  a  life  and  death  struggle.  Mr. 
Stocking  was  a  very  powerful  man.  It  was  said  that  he 
was  double-jointed.  He  was  full  six  feet  high  and  heavy 
in  proportion.  He  was  a  typical  pioneer  in  health,  strength 
and  power  of  endurance.  He  said  he  felt  as  though  his 
time  had  come,  but  there  was  one  chance  in  a  thousand 
and  he  was  going  to  take  that  chance.  As  soon  as  the 
cougar  let  go  of  the  dog  to  tackle  Stocking,  the  cur  sneaked 
off  to  let  his  master  fight  it  out  alone.  He  had  had  enough 
fight  for  one  day.  As  the  cougar  raised  on  his  hind  legs 
Stocking  luckily  grasped  him  by  the  throat  and  began 
kicking  him  in  the  stomach.  Stocking  said  he  thought  if 
he  could  get  one  good  kick  in  the  region  of  the  heart  he 
felt  that  he  might  settle  him.  I  guess,  boys,  no  football 
player  ever  kicked  as  hard  as  Stocking  did  that  day.  The 
difference  was  that  he  was  literally  kicking  for  dear  life, 
while  the  player  kicks  only  for  fun.  All  this  happened 
in  less  time  that  it  takes  to  tell  it.  Meanwhile  the  cougar 
was  not  idle,  but  was  clawing  away  at  Stocking's  arms 
and  shoulders,  and  once  he  hit  him  a  clip  on  the  nose.  The 
dog  finally  returned  to  the  strife  and  between  the  two  they 
laid  Mr.  Cougar  low  and  took  off  his  skin  the  next  day. 
Mr.  Stocking  took  it  to  01yni]ua,  where  it  was  used  for  a 
base  purpose.  Tt  M^as  stuffed  and  put  into  a  saloon  and 
kept  there  a  long  time  to  attract  people  into  the  saloon. 

Did  my  cougar  hurt  me,  did  you  say?  I  hadn't  any 
cougar  and   hadn't  lost  one,   and   if   I   had   been   hurt   T 


Ventures  and  Adventures  215 

wouldn't  have  been  here  to  tell  you  this  story.  The  fun 
of  it  was  that  the  cougar  hadn't  seen  me  yet,  but  just  as 
soon  as  be  did  he  scampered  off  like  the  Old  Harry  him- 
self was  after  him,  and  I  strode  off  down  the  trail  as  if 
old  Beezlebub  was  after  me. 

Now,  youngsters,  before  you  go  to  bed,  just  bear  in 
mind  there  is  no  danger  here  now  from  wild  animals,  and 
there  was  not  much  then,  for  in  all  the  time  I  have  been 
here,  now  over  fifty  years,  I  have  known  of  but  two  per- 
sons killed  by  them. 

And  now  I  will  tell  you  one  more  true  stoiy  and  then 
quit  for  this  time.  Aunt  Abbie  Sumner  one  evening  heard 
Gus  Johnson  hallooing  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  a  little  way 
out  from  the  house.  Her  father  said  Gus  was  just  driving 
up  the  cows,  but  Aunt  Abbie  said  she  never  knew  him  to 
make  such  a  noise  as  that  before,  and  went  out  within 
speaking  distance  and  where  she  could  see  him  at  times 
pounding  vigorously  on  a  tree  for  awhile  and  then  turn 
a]id  strike  out  toward  the  brush  and  yell  so  loud  she  said 
she  believed  he  could  be  heard  for  more  than  a  mile  away. 
She  soon  saw  something  moving  in  the  brush.  It  was  a 
bear.  Gus  had  suddenly  come  upon  a  bear  and  her  cubs 
and  run  one  of  the  cubs  up  a  tree.  He  pounded  on  the 
tree  to  keep  it  there,  but  had  to  turn  at  times  to  fight  the 
bear  away  from  him.  As  soon  as  he  could  find  time  to 
speak  he  told  her  to  go  to  the  house  and  bring  the  gun, 
which  she  did,  and  that  woman  went  right  up  to  the  tree 
and  handed  Gus  the  gun  while  the  bear  was  nearby.  Gus 
made  a  bad  shot  the  first  time  and  wounded  the  bear,  but 
the  next  time  killed  her.  But  lo  and  behold !  he  hadn  't 
any  more  bullets  and  the  cub  was  still  up  the  tree.  So 
away  went  Aunt  Abbie  two  miles  to  a  neighbor  to  get 
lead  to  mold  some  bullets.  But  by  this  time  it  was  dark, 
and  Gus  stayed  all  night  at  the  butt  of  the  tree  and  kept 
a  fire  burning,  and  next  morning  killed  the  cub.  So  he 
got  the  hides  of  both  of  them.  This  occurred  about  three 
miles  east  of  Bucoda,  Washington. 


216  A  Busy  Life 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE   MORNING  SCHOOL. 

Soon  after  the  Indian  war  we  moved  to  our  donation 
claim.  We  had  but  three  neighbors,  the  nearest  nearly 
two  miles  away,  and  two  of  them  kept  bachelor's  hall  and 
were  of  no  account  for  schools.  Of  course,  we  could  not 
see  any  of  our  neighbors'  houses,  and  could  reach  but  one 
by  a  road  and  the  others  by  a  trail.  Under  such  conditions 
we  could  not  have  a  pu])lic  school.  I  can  best  tell  about 
our  morning  school  by  I'elating  an  incident  that  happened 
a  few  months  after  it  was  started. 

One  day  one  of  our  farther-off  neighbors,  who  lived  over 
four  miles  away,  came  to  visit  us.  Naturally,  the  children 
flocked  around  him  to  hear  his  stories  in  Scotch  brogue, 
and  began  to  ply  questions,  to  which  he  soon  responded  by 
asking  other  questions,  one  of  which  was  when  they  ex- 
pected to  go  to  school. 

"Why,  we  have  school  now,"  responded  a  chorus  of 
voices.    "We  have  school  every  day." 

"And,  pray,  who  is  your  teacher,  and  where  is  your 
schoolhouse  ? "  came  the  prompt  inquiry. 

"Father  teaches  us  at  home  every  morning  before  break- 
fast.   He  hears  the  lessons  then,  but  mother  help  us,  too." 

Peter  Smith,  the  neighbor,  never  tires  telling  the  story, 
and  maybe  has  added  a  little  as  memory  fails,  for  he  is 
eighty-four  years  old  now. 

"Your  father  told  me  awhile  ago  that  you  had  your 
breakfast  at  six  o'clock.    What  time  do  you  get  up?" 

"Why,  father  sets  the  clock  for  half-past  four,  and 
that  gives  us  an  hour  while  mother  gets  breakfast,  you 
know. ' ' 

You  boys  and  girls  who  read  this  chapter  may  have  a 
feeling  almost  akin  to  pity  for  those  poor  pioneer  children 
who  had  to  get  up  so  early,  but  you  may  as  well  dismiss 
such  thoughts  from  your  minds,  for  they  were  happy  and 
cheerful  and  liealthv,  worked  some  during  the  dav.  besides 


Ventures  and  Adventures  217 

studying  their  lessons,  but  they  went  to  bed  earlier  than 
some  boys  and  girls  do  these  days. 

It  was  not  long  until  we  moved  to  the  Puyallup  Valley, 
where  llicrc  wei-e  more  neighbors — two  families  to  the 
sijuare  mile,  but  not  one  of  them  in  sight,  because  the 
timber  and  underbrush  were  so  thick  we  could  scarcely 
see  two  rods  from  the  edge  of  our  clearing.  Now  we  could 
have  a  real  school ;  but  first  I  will  tell  about  the  school- 
house. 

Some  of  the  neighbors  took  their  axes  to  cut  the  logs, 
some  their  oxen  to  haul  them,  others  their  saws  and  frows 
to  make  the  clapboards  for  the  roof,  while  again  others, 
more  handy  with  tools,  nuide  the  benches  out  of  split  logs, 
or,  as  we  called  them,  puncheons.  With  a  good  many  will- 
ing hands,  the  house  soon  received  the  finishing  touches. 
The  side  Avails  were  scarcely  high  enough  for  the  door, 
and  one  was  cut  in  the  end  and  a  door  hung  on  wooden 
hinges  that  S(|ueaked  a  good  deal  when  the  door  was  opened 
or  shut;  but  the  children  did  not  mind  that.  The  roof 
answered  Avell  for  the  ceiling  overhead,  and  a  log  cut  out 
on  each  side  made  two  long,  narrow  windows  for  light. 
The  larger  children  sat  with  their  faces  to  the  walls,  with 
long  shelves  in  front  of  them,  while  the  smaller  tots  sat  on 
low  benches  near  the  middle  of  the  room.  When  the 
weather  would  permit  the  teacher  left  the  door  open  to 
admit  more  light,  but  had  no  need  for  more  fresh  air  as 
the  roof  was  quite  open  and  the  cracks  between  the  logs 
let  in  plenty. 

Sometimes  we  had  a  lady  teacher,  and  then  her  salary 
was  smaller,  as  she  boarded  around.  That  meant  some 
discomfort  part  of  the  time,  Avhere  the  surroundings  were 
not  pleasant. 

Some  of  those  scholars  are  dead,  some  have  wandered 
to  parts  unknown,  while  thos(^  that  are  left  are  nearly  all 
married  and  are  grandfathers  or  grandmothers,  but  all 
living  remember  the  old  log  schoolhouse  with  affection. 
This  is  a  true  picture,  as  I  recollect,  of  the  early  school 


218  A  Busy  Life 

days  in  the  Puyalliip  Valley,  when,  as  the  unknown  poet 
has  said : 

"And  children  did  a  half  day's  work 
Before  they  went  to  school." 

Not  quite  so  hard  as  that,  but  very  near  it,  as  we  were 
always  up  early  and  the  children  did  a  lot  of  work  before 
and  after  school  time. 

When  Carrie  was  afterwards  sent  to  Portland  to  the 
high  school  she  took  her  place  in  the  class  just  the  same 
as  if  she  had  been  taught  in  a  grand  brick  schoolhouse. 
' '  "Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way. ' ' 

You  must  not  conclude  that  we  had  no  recreation  and 
that  we  were  a  sorrowful  set  devoid  of  enjoyment,  for 
there  never  was  a  happier  lot  of  people  than  these  same 
hard-working  pioneers  and  their  families.  I  will  now  tell 
you  something  about  their  home  life,  their  amusements  as 
well  as  their  labor. 

Before  the  clearings  were  large  we  sometimes  got  pinched 
for  both  food  and  clothing,  though  I  will  not  say  we  suf- 
fered much  for  either,  though  I  know  of  some  families  at 
times  who  lived  on  potatoes  "straight".  Usually  fish  could 
l)e  had  in  abundance,  and  considerable  game — some  bear 
and  plenty  of  deer.  The  clothing  gave  us  the  most  trouble, 
as  but  little  money  came  to  us  for  the  small  quantity  of 
produce  we  had  to  spare.  I  remember  one  winter  we  were 
at  our  wits'  end  for  shoes.  We  just  could  not  get  money 
to  buy  shoes  enough  to  go  around,  but  managed  to  get 
leather  to  make  each  member  of  the  family  one  pair.  We 
killed  a  pig  to  get  bristles  for  the  wax-ends,  cut  the  pegs 
from  green  alder  log  and  seasoned  them  in  the  oven,  and 
made  the  lasts'  out  of  the  same  timber.  Those  shoes  were 
clumsy,  to  be  sure,  but  kept  our  feet  dry  and  warm,  and 
we  felt  thankful  for  the  comforts  vouchsafed  to  us  and 
sorry  for  s(mie  neighboi-s'  children,  wlio  had  to  go  bare- 
footed even  in  quite  cold  weather. 

Music  was  our  gi-eatest  pleasure  and  we  never  tired  of 
it.    "Uncle  John,"  as  everyone  called  hiu).  the  old  teacher, 


VENTURER    AND    ADVENTURES  219 

never  tired  tcaehiii'j;'  the  eliildren  music,  and  so  it  soon 
came  about  tliey  e(Jidd  read  their  musie  as  readily  as 
they  could  tlieir  school  books.  No  Christmas  ever  went  by 
without  a  Christmas  tree,  in  which  the  whole  neighborhood 
joined,  or  a  Fourth  of  July  passed  without  a  celebration. 
We  made  the  presents  for  the  tree  if  we  could  not  buy 
them,  and  supi>lied  the  musicians,  reader  and  orator  for 
the  celebration.  Everybody  had  something  to  do  and  a 
voice  in  saying  what  should  be  done,  and  that  very  fact 
made  all  hapj^y. 

We  had  sixteen  miles  to  go  to  our  market  town,  Steila- 
coom,  over  the  roughest  kind  of  a  road.  Nobody  had  horse 
teams  at  the  start,  and  so  we  had  to  go  with  ox  teams.  We 
could  not  make  the  trip  out  and  back  in  one  day,  and  did 
not  have  money  to  pay  hotel  bills,  and  so  we  would  drive 
out  part  of  the  way  and  camp  and  the  next  morning  drive 
into  town  very  early,  do  our  trading,  and,  if  possible,  reach 
home  the  same  day.  If  not  able  to  do  this,  we  camped  again 
on  the  road ;  but  if  the  night  was  not  too  dark  would  reach 
home  in  the  night.  And  oh!  what  an  appetite  we  would 
have,  and  how  cheery  the  fire  would  be,  and  how  welcome 
the  reception  in  the  cabin  home. 

One  of  the  "youngsters,"  sixty  years  old  now,  after 
reading  "The  Morning  School,"  writes: 

"Yes,  father,  your  story  of  the  morning  school  is  just 
as  it  was.  I  can  see  in  my  mind's  eye  yet  us  children  re- 
citing and  standing  up  in  a  row  to  spell,  and  Auntie  and 
mother  getting  breakfast,  and  can  remember  the  little  bed 
room ;  of  rising  early  and  of  reading  '  Uncle  Tom 's  Cabin ' 
as  a  dessert  to  the  work." 

Near  where  the  old  log  cabin  schoolhouse  stood  our  high 
school  Iniilding  now  stands,  large  enough  to  accommodate 
four  hundred  pupils.  In  the  district  where  we  could 
count  nineteen  children  of  school  age,  with  eleven  in  at- 
tendance, now  we  have  twelve  hundred  boys  and  girls  of 
school  age,  three  large  schoolhouses  and  seventeen  teachers. 

The  trees  and  stumps  are  all  gone  and  brick  buildings 
and  other  good  houses  occupy  much  of  the  land,  and  as 


220  A  liusY  Life 

uiaiiy  ])e()])l(!  now  live  in  that  school  district  as  lived  both 
cast  and  west  of  tlie  mountains  wluai  the  Ten'itory  was 
created  in  iMarcli,  1853.  Instead  of  ox  teams,  and  some 
at  that  with  sleds,  the  people  have  buggies  and  carriages, 
or  automobiles,  or  they  can  travel  on  any  of  the  eighteen 
passenger  trains  that  pass  daily  through  Puyallup,  or  on 
street  cars  to  Tacoma,  and  also  on  some  of  the  twenty  to 
twenty-four  freight  trains,  some  of  which  are  a  third  of 
a  mile  long.  Such  are  some  of  the  changes  wrought  in 
fifty  years  since  pioneer  life  began  in  the  Puyallup  Valley. 
Now,  just  try  your  hand  on  this  song  that  follows,  one 
that  our  dear  old  teacher  has  sung  so  often  for  us,  in  com- 
pany with  one  of  those  scholars  of  the  old  log  cabin,  Mrs. 
Frances  Bean,  now  of  Tacoma,  who  has  kindly  supplied  the 
words  and  music : 

FIFTY  YEARS  AGO. 

How  wondrous  are  the  olianges 

Since  fifty  years  ago, 
When  sirls  wore  woolen  dresses 

And  boys  wore  pants  of  tow; 
.\nd  shoes  were  made  of  cowhide 

And  socks  of  homespun  wool; 
And  children  did  a  half-day's  work 

Before  they  went  to  school. 

Chorus. 
Some  fifty  years  ago; 
Some  fifty  years  ago; 

The  men  and  the  boys 

And  the  girls  and  the  toys; 
The  work  and  the  play, 
And  the  night  and  the  day, 

The  world  and  its  ways 

Are  all  turned  around 
Since  fifty  years  ago. 

The  girls  took  music  lessons 

Upon  the  spinning  wheel. 
And  practiced  late  and  early 

On  spindle  swift  and  reel. 
The  boy  would  ride  the  horse  to  mill, 

A  dozen  miles  or  so. 
And  hurry  off  before  'twas  day 

Some  fifty  years  ago. 

The  people  rode  to  meeting 

In  sleds  instead  of  sleighs. 
And  wagons  rode  as  easy 

As  buggies  nowadays; 
And  oxen  answered  well  for  teams, 

Though  now  they'd  be  too  slow; 
For  people  lived  not  half  .so  fast 

Some  fift.v  years  ago. 


Ventures  and  Adventurer  221 


All!  wi'll  do  I  rcriicriibi'i- 

Tlial  Wilson's  pulcnl.  slo\r, 
'I'liut  father  boiitflit  anil  paid  for 

In  cloth  our  nirls  had  wove; 
And  how  the  people  wondered 

When  we  got  the  thing  to  go, 
And  said  'twould  burst  and  kill  us  all, 

Some  fifty  years  ago. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AN   EARLY   SURVEY. 

On  the  night  of  the  27th  of  November,  1866,  a  party  of 
four  young  men.  Ransom  Bonnej^,  Jacob  Woolery,  Edward 
Ross,  and  Marion  Meeker,  none  of  whom  were  nineteen 
years  old,  together  with  a  middle-aged  man,  the  author, 
whom  they  called  "Dad",  and  an  Indian  named  "Skyuck", 
or  Jim  ]\Ieeker,  camped  in  a  small  shack  of  a  house,  stand- 
ing on  the  spot  now  described  as  the  foot  of  Thirty-third 
Street,  Tacoma. 

We  were  tired  and  liungiy  when  this  camp  was  reached 
at  dusk  of  evening,  and  drenched  to  the  skin  by  the  copious 
rainfall  between  times  of  gusts  of  wind  such  as  is  common 
on  November  days  of  a  Piiget  Sound  climate.  The  cabin 
was  open,  with  a  snmll  fireplace  with  a  low  cat-and-clay 
chimney  that  did  not  reach  high  enough  to  prevent  the 
smoke  from  being  blown  freely  into  the  cabin. 

"Golly,  Dad,  that's  been  a  tough  old  day,"  said  Ransom 
Bonney,  who  was  the  wag  of  the  party  and  always  cheer- 
ful (his  father,  a  pioneer  of  1853,  still  lives  at  the  ad- 
vanced age  of  92  years),  as  he  drew  otf  his  socks  to  wring 
them  before  preparing  supper.*'  "Just  please  deliver  me 
from  surveying  on  tide  flats,"  he  added,  as  the  water  ran 
in  streams  fi-om  the  socks  in  his  hands.  "But  it's  all  right 
when  one  g(^ts  used  to  it." 

"Yes,  but  the  d — 1  of  it  is,  to  get  used  to  it,"  came  as  a 
quick  response  from  the  lips  of  Jacob  Woolery,  who  had 
shed  most  of  his  clothing  preparatory  to  drying.     At  the 

"Since  died  at  the  .age  of  97. 


222  A  Busy  Life 

same  time  he  was  doing  justice  to  the  boiled  potatoes  and 
ash  cake,  baked  before  tlie  oi)en  fire  in  the  frying-pan. 
Edward  Koss,  the  third  lad  of  the  party,  said  nothing. 
He  had  been  the  flagman  that  day  and  frequently  over 
boot-top  deep  in  mud  and  water  without  any  murmur,  but 
it  was  plain  to  me  that  he  did  not  want  any  more  of  such 
\':ork. 

Jacob,  Edward  and  the  Indian  have  long  since  passed 
away;  Marion  and  Kansom,  the  surviving  members  of  the 
lads,  are  yet  alive.  At  present,  only  three  of  the  whole 
party  are  left  to  tell  the  story  of  subdividing  the  land  for 
the  Government  where  now  the  great  city  of  Tacoma  is 
building.  The  day  following  the  experience  on  the  tide 
flat  we  ran  the  line  between  sections  T.  20,  N.,  R.  3  E. 
Willamette,  meridian  almost  parallel  wdtli  Pacific  Avenue 
to  a  point  near  Seventh  Street. 

That  day  also  gave  a  sample  of  what  a  rainy,  stormy 
day  could  bring  forth  in  the  dense  forest  of  heavy  timber 
and  underbrush  charged  with  the  accumulated  raindrops 
in  the  intervals  between  the  gusts  of  wand  and  rainfall  that 
prevailed  all  day. 

"Dad,  T  believe  this  is  worse  than  the  tide  flats,"  said 
Jake,  as  he  almost  slid  down  the  steep  bluff  just  north 
of  the  Tacoma  Hotel  while  retracing  the  fifth  standard 
parallel,  to  search  for  the  bearing  trees  in  the  meander 
line  of  Commencement  Bay. 

And  so  it  was,  the  further  the  work  progressed,  the 
harder  the  task  seemed,  and  that  second  night's  camp  in 
the  cabin  found  us  if  possible  with  less  comfort  than  the 
first.  But  we  stuck  to  the  jol)  through  thick  and  thin, 
rain  or  wind,  till  the  work  was  finished  and  the  township 
surveyed.  Positively,  if  at  that  time  one  could  have  offered 
me  the  land  represented  by  that  survey  in  lieu  of  the  ten 
dollars  per  mile  in  greenbacks  (then  worth  seventy-five 
cents  on  the  dollar)  T  would  have  taken  the  greenbacks 
instead  of  the  land. 

Now^  in  the  near  vicinity,  lots  with  twenty-five  foot 
front  and  a  hundred  foot  depth  have  sold  for  twenty-five 


Ventitres  and  Adventures  223 

lliousaiid  dollars;  sixteen-story  buildings  occupy  the  land 
not  thioe  blocks  away  and  a  city  of  over  a  hundred  thou- 
sand people  has  grown  up  on  the  land  thus  surveyed,  that 
was  then  a  dense  virgin  forest  of  giant  timber. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

I  come  now  to  a  period  of  my  life,  as  one  might  say,  on 
the  border  land  between  pioneer  days  of  the  old  Oregon 
country  and  of  the  later  development  of  the  younger  ter- 
ritory and  this  giant  State  bearing  the  great  name  of  the 
father  of  our  country. 

An  account  of  these  ventures  follows  in  the  order  of 
their  occurrence. 

MY    HOP    VENTURE. 

The  public,  generally,  give  me  the  credit  of  introducing 
hop  culture  into  the  Northwest. 

As  this  business  created  such  a  stir  in  the  world's  market, 
and  made  the  Puyallup  Valley  famous,  and  as  my  name 
has  become  so  prominently  connected  with  hop  culture,  I 
can  hardly  pass  this  episode  of  my  life  by  without  notice. 
As  I  say  elsewhere,  this  should  not  properly  be  called  a 
venture,  although  the  violent  fluctuations  of  prices  made 
it  hazardous.  But  I  can  truly  say,  that  for  twenty-two 
years'  successive  crops,  I  did  not  raise  a  single  crop  upon 
which  I  lost  money,  and  that  for  that  many  years  I  added 
each  year  some  acreage  to  my  holdings.  But  few  hop- 
growers,  however,  can  say  so  much  as  to  losses  incurred. 

A  history  of  the  establishment  and  destruction  of  the 
business  follows : 

About  the  fifteenth  of  March,  1865,  Chas.  Wood,  of 
Olympia,  sent  about  three  pecks  of  hop  roots  to  Steilacoom 
for  my  fatlier,  Jacob  R.  Meeker,  who  then  lived  on  his 
claim  nearby  where  Sumner  was  afterwards  built  in  the 
Puyallup  Valley.  John  V.  Meeker,  my  brother,  carried 
this   sack   of   roots   on    his   back    from    Steilacoom   to   my 


Ventitres  and  Adventures  225 

father's  home,  a  distance  of  about  twenty  miles,  passing 
by  my  cabin  (the  remains  of  which  are  still  standing  in 
Pioneer  Park,  Puyallup)  with  his  precious  burden.  I 
fingered  out  of  the  sack  roots  sufficient  to  plant  six  hills 
of  hops,  and  so  far  as  I  know  those  were  the  first  hops 
planted  in  the  Puyallup  Valley.  My  father  planted  the 
remainder  in  four  rows  of  aliout  six  rods  in  length,  and 
in  the  following  September  harvested  the  ecjuivalent  of 
one  bale  of  hops,  180  pounds,  and  sold  them  to  Mr.  Wood 
for  85  cents  per  pound,  receiving  a  little  over  $150.00. 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  hop  business  in  the  Puy- 
allup Vallej^,  and  the  Territory  of  Washington. 

This  WMS  more  money  than  had  been  received  by  any 
settlor  in  the  Puyallup  Valley,  excepting  perhaps  two, 
from  the  products  of  their  farm  for  that  year.  My  father's 
nearby  neighbors,  Messrs.  E.  C.  Mead  and  L.  F.  Thompson, 
obtained  a  barrel  of  hop  roots  from  California  the  next 
year,  and  planted  them  the  following  spring — four  acres. 
I  obtained  what  roots  I  could  get  that  year,  but  not  enough 
to  plant  an  acre.  The  following  year  (1867)  I  planted 
four  acres,  and  for  twenty-six  successive  years  thereafter 
added  to  this  plantation  until  our  holdings  reached  past 
the  five-hundred-acre  mark,  and  our  production  over  four 
hundred  tons  a  year. 

After  having  produced  his  third  crop  my  father  died 
(1869),  but  not  until  after  he  had  shipped  his  hops  to 
Portland,  Oregon.  In  settling  up  his  affiairs  I  found  it 
necessary  for  me  to  go  to  Portland,  and  there  met  Henry 
Winehard,  who  had  purchased  some  of  the  hops.  Mr. 
Winehard,  was  the  largest  brewer  in  Oregon.  After  closing 
up  the  business  with  Mr.  Winehard,  he  abruptly  said,  "T 
want  your  hops  next  year."  I  answered  that  I  did  not 
know  what  the  price  would  be.  He  said,  "I  will  pay  you 
as  nnich  as  anybody  else,"  and  then  frankly  told  me  of 
tlieii-  value.  He  said  they  were  the  finest  hops  he  had 
ever  used,  and  that  with  them  he  had  no  need  to  use  either 
foreign  or  New  York  hops,  but  with  the  hops  raised  in 
the  hotter  climate  of  California,  he  could  not  use  them 
16—1958 


226  A  Busy  Life 

alone.  I  told  him  he  should  have  them,  and  the  result 
was  that  for  fourteen  years,  M-ith  the  exception  of  one 
year,  Mr.  Winehard  used  the  hops  grown  on  my  place, 
some  years  200  bales,  some  years  more.  My  meeting  with 
him  gave  me  such  confidence  in  the  business  that  I  did 
not  hesitate  to  add  to  my  yards  as  rapidly  as  I  could  get 
the  land  cleared,  for  I  had  at  first  planted  right  among 
the  stumps.  There  came  a  depression  in  this  business  in 
1869  and  1870,  and  my  neighbors,  Messrs.  Mead  and 
Thompson,  made  the  mistake  of  shipping  their  hops  to 
Australia,  and  finally  lost  their  entire  crop — not  selling  for 
much,  if  anything,  above  the  cost  of  the  freight,  while  Mr. 
Winehard  paid  me  25  cents  a  pound  for  my  crop.  Under 
the  discouragement  of  the  loss  of  their  crop,  Messrs.  Mead 
and  Thompson  concluded  to  plow  up  a  part  of  their  planta- 
tion— two  acres  and  a  half — whereupon  I  leased  that  por- 
tion of  their  yard  for  a  year,  paying  them  $10.00  an  acre 
in  advance,  and  harvested  from  those  two  acres  and  a  half 
over  four  thousand  pounds  of  hops,  and  sold  them  to  Henry 
Winehard  for  50  cents  a  pound.  This  was  for  the  crop 
of  1871. 

None  of  us  knew  anything  about  the  hop  business,  and 
it  was  totally  accidental  that  we  engaged  in  it,  but  seeing 
that  there  were  possibilities  of  great  gain,  I  took  extra 
pains  to  study  up  the  question,  and  found  that  by  allowing 
our  hops  to  mature  thoroughly  and  curing  them  at  a  low 
temperature,  and  baling  them  while  hot,  we  could  produce 
a  hop  that  would  compete  with  any  product  in  the  world. 
Others  of  my  neighbors  planted,  and  also  many  in  Oregon, 
until  there  soon  became  a  field  for  purchasing  and  shipping 
hops. 

But  the  fluctuations  were  so  great  that  in  a  few  years 
many  became  discouraged  and  lost  their  holdings,  until 
finally,  during  the  world's  hop  crop  failure  of  the  year 
1882,  there  came  to  be  unheard-of  prices  for  hops,  and 
fully  one-third  of  the  crop  of  the  Puyallup  Valley  was  sold 
for  $1.00  per  pound.  I  had  that  year  nearly  100,000 
pounds,  which  averaged  me  70  cents  per  pound. 


Vknturks  and  AnvKNTiTREs  227 

About  this  time  T  had  come  to  realize  that  llie  impor- 
tant market  for  hops  was  in  Knj^laud,  and  l)egaii  sending 
ti'ial  shipments,  first,  seven  l)ales,  then  the  following  year 
500  bales,  then  1,500  bales,  until  finally  our  annual  ship- 
ments reached  11,000  bales  a  year,  or  the  equivalent  in 
value  of  £100,000 — half  million  dollars — said  to  be  at  that 
time  the  largest  export  hop  trade  by  any  one  concern  in 
the  United  States. 

This  business  could  not  properly  be  called  a  venture ; 
it  was  simply  a  growth.  The  conditions  were  favorable 
in  that  we  could  produce  the  choicest  hops  in  the  world's 
market  at  the  lowest  price  of  any  kind,  and  we  actually 
did  press  the  English  growers  so  closely  that  over  fifteen 
thousand  acres  of  hops  were  destroyed  in  that  country. 

My  first  hop  house  was  built  in  1868 — a  log  house — and 
stands  in  Pioneer  Park,  Puyallup,  to  this  day,  and  is  care- 
fully preserved  by  the  city  authorities  and  doubtless  will 
be  until  it  perishes  by  the  hand  of  time.  We  frequently 
employed  from  a  thousand  to  twelve  hundred  people  during 
the  harvest  time.  Until  the  beginning  of  the  decline  of  the 
business,  the  result  of  that  little  start  of  hop  roots  had 
brought  over  twenty  million  dollars  into  the  Territory  of 
Washington. 

I  spent  four  winters  in  London  on  the  hop  market,  and 
became  acquainted  with  all  the  leading  hop  men  of  the 
metropolis. 

One  evening  as  I  stepped  out  of  my  office,  and  cast  my 
eyes  towards  one  group  of  our  hop  houses,  I  thought  I 
could  see  that  the  hop  foliage  of  a  field  nearby  was  off 
color — did  not  look  natural.  Calling  one  of  my  clerks  from 
the  office  he  said  the  same  thing — they  did  not  look  natural. 
I  walked  down  to  the  yards,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant, 
and  there  first  saw  the  hop-louse.  The  yard  was  literally 
alive  with  lice,  and  were  destroying — at  least  the  quality. 
At  that  time  I  issued  a  hop  circular,  sending  it  to  over  600 
correspondents  all  along  the  coast  in  California,  Oregon. 
Washington,  and  British  Columbia,  and  before  the  week 


228  A  Busy  Life 

Wcis  out  T  bogan  to  receive  samples  and  letters  from  tliem, 
and  iiKjniries  asking  what  was  tlie  matter  with  the  hoi)s. 

It  transpired  that  the  attack  of  lice  was  simultaneous 
in  Oregon,  Washington  and  British  Columbia,  extending 
over  a  distance  coastwise  of  more  than  500  miles,  and  even 
inland  up  the  Skagit  River,  where  there  was  an  isolated 
yard. 

It  came  like  a  clap  of  ttiunder  out  of  a  clear  sky,  so  un- 
expected was  it. 

I  sent  my  second  sou,  Fred  Meeker,  to  London  to  study 
the  question  and  to  get  their  methods  of  fighting  the  pest, 
and  to  import  some  spraying  machinery.  We  found,  how- 
ever, in  the  lapse  of  years,  to  our  cost,  that  the  conditions 
here  were  different,  that  while  we  could  kill  the  louse,  the 
foliage  was  so  dense  that  we  had  to  use  so  much  spraying 
material  that,  in  killing  the  louse,  we  virtually  destroyed 
the  hops,  and  instead  of  being  able  to  sell  our  hops  at  the 
top  price  of  the  market,  our  product  fell  to  the  foot  of 
tlie  list,  the  last  crop  I  raised  costing  me  eleven  cents  per 
pound,  and  selling  for  three  under  the  hammer  at  sheriff's 
sale. 

At  that  time  I  had  more  than  .1^100,000.00  advanced  to 
my  neighl)ors  and  others  upon  their  hop  crops,  which  was 
lost.  These  people  simply  could  not  pay,  and  I  forgave 
the  debt,  taking  no  judgments  against  them,  and  have  never 
regi'etted  the  action. 

All  of  n\y  accumulations  were  swept  away,  and  I  quit 
the  business,  or,  rather,  the  business  quit  me. 

The  result  was  that  finally,  after  a  long  struggle,  nearly 
all  of  the  hops  were  plowed  up  and  the  land  use  for  dairy, 
fruit  and  general  crops  and  is  actually  now  of  a  higher 
value  than  when  beai-ing  hops. 

A  curious  episode  occurred  dui'iug  tlic^  height  of  our 
struggle  to  save  the  hop  business  from  impending  destruc- 
tion. Th(!  Post-Intelligencer  of  Seattle  published  the  fol- 
lowing self-explanatory  correspondence  on  the  date  shown 
and  while  the  Methodist  conferences  were  yet  in  session: 


Vknthres  and  AnvKNTUREs  229 

THE   CURSE  ON   THE  HOPS. 

Puyallup,  Sept.  6,  1895. 
To  the  Editor: 

Jn  tliis  morning's  rei)()i-t  of  tlic  Methodist  conference  I 
notice  under  the  heading  "A  Curse  on  the  Hop  Crop", 
that  Preacher  Hanson,  of  Puyallup,  reported  he  had  some 
good  news  from  that  great  hop  country — the  liop  crop, 
the  main  support  of  the  people,  was  a  faihire;  the  crop 
had  been  cursed  by  God.  Whereupon  Bishop  Bowman  said 
"Good"  and  from  all  over  the  room  voices  could  be  heard 
giving  utterance  to  the  fervent  ejaculation,  "Thank  God." 

For  the  edification  of  the  reverend  fathers  and  fervent 
brethren  I  wish  to  publish  to  them  and  to  the  world  that 
I  have  beat  God,  for  I  have  500  acres  of  hops  at  Puyallup 
and  Kent  that  are  free  from  lice,  the  "curse  of  God,"  and 
that  I  believe  it  was  the  work  of  an  emulsion  of  whale  oil 
soap  and  quassie  sprayed  on  the  vines  that  thwai'ted  God's 
l)urpose  to  "curse"  me  and  others  who  exterminated  the 
lice. 

One  is  almost  ready  to  ask  if  this  is  indeed  the  nineteenth 
century  of  enlightenment,  to  hear  such  utterances  gravely 
made  by  men  supposed  to  be  expounders  of  that  great 
i-eligion  of  love  as  promulgated  by  the  Great  Teacher. 

I  want  to  recall  to  the  memory  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hanson 
that  the  church  in  which  he  has  been  preaching  for  a  year 
past  was  built  in  great  part  by  money  contributed  from 
gains  of  this  business  "cursed  by  God."  For  myself  T 
can  inform  him  that,  as  a  citizen  of  Puyallup,  I  contributed 
$400,  to  buy  the  ground  upon  which  that  church  edifice 
is  built,  every  cent  of  which  came  from  this  same  hop  busi- 
ness "cursed  by  God."  I  would  "thank  God"  if  they 
would  return  the  money  and  thus  ease  their  guilty  con- 
sciences. 

E.  MEEKER. 

When  this  letter  appeared,  vigorous  protests  came  thick 
and  fast  and  compelled  the  good  fathers  to  give  Mr.  Hanson 
another  charge.     But  my   vainglorious  boasting  was  not 


230  A  Busy  Life 

jnstified  as  the  .se(|uel  shows;  our  hops  were  finally  de- 
sti'oyed — -whether  iuid(;r  a  curse  or  not  must  be  decided  by 
the  reader,  each  foi-  himself  or  lierself.  But  1  never  got 
my  $400.00  back,  and,  in  fact,  did  not  want  it,  and  doubt- 
less wrote  the  letter  in  a  pettish  mood. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

TITE   BEET   SUGAR   VENTURE. 

A  more  proper  heading,  I  think,  would  be  "Sugar  Beet 
Raising,"  but  everybody  at  the  time  spoke  of  it  the  other 
way,  and  so  it  shall  be.  I  did  raise  hundreds  of  tons  of 
sugar  beets,  and  fed  them  to  the  dairy,  but  had  only 
enough  of  them  manufactured  to  get  half  a  ton  of  sugar, 
which  was  exhibited  at  the  New  Orleans  exposition — the 
second  year  of  the  exposition— and  probably  the  first  sugar 
ever  made  from  Washington  grown  beets. 

The  first  winter  I  spent  on  the  London  hop  market  (1884) 
my  attention  was  called  to  the  remarkably  cheap  German 
made  beet  sugar,  selling  then  at  "tupence"  a  pound,  as 
the  English  people  expressed  it — four  cents  a  pound,  our 
currency.  If  beet  sugar  could  be  produced  so  cheaply, 
why  could  we  not  make  it,  I  queried,  knowing  as  I  did 
what  enormous  yields  of  beets  could  be  obtained  in  the  rich 
soils  of  the  Puyallup  and  White  River  valleys.  So  I  hied 
me  oK  to  the  German  sugar  district,  and  visited  several 
of  the  factories,  taking  only  a  hasty  view  of  their  works, 
but  much  impressed  with  the  importance  of  the  subject. 

The  following  spring  I  planted  two  acres  on  one  of  my 
White  River  farms,  and  Thomas  Alvord  i)lanted  two  acres. 
I  harvested  forty-seven  tons  fi-om  my  two  acres  and  at 
different  times  during  their  later  growth  sent  a  dozen 
samples  or  more  to  the  beet  sugar  factory  at  Alvarado. 
California,  to  be  tested.  The  report  came  back  highly 
favorable — rich  and  pure,  and  if  figures  would  not  lie, 
here  was  a  field  better  than  hops — better  than  any  crop 


Ventures  and  Adventures  231 

any  of  the  farniei-s  were,  raising  at  the  time.  So  Mr. 
Alvord  and  myself  organized  a  beet  sugar  company,  and 
the  next  year  increased  our  acreage  to  further  test  the 
cost  of  raising  and  of  their  sugar  producing  qualities.  I 
raised  over  a  hundred  tons  that  year,  and  we  sent  ten 
tons  to  the  Alvarado  factory  to  extract  the  sugar — mean- 
while had  sent  about  a  hundred  samples  at  different  times, 
to  be  tested.  Not  all  of  the  reports  came  back  favorable, 
and  the  conclusion  was  reached  to  test  farther  another 
year,  and  accordingly  a  still  larger  acreage  was  planted. 
That  year  I  sent  my  second  son,  Fred  Meeker,  to  a  school 
of  chemistry  in  San  Francisco,  and  when  the  factory 
started  up  in  Alvarado,  to  the  factory,  for  what  was  termed 
the  campaign,  to  work  and  to  learn  the  business.  Our 
samples  were  again  sent  with  the  same  result,  some  were 
exceedingly  rich  and  pure,  while  others  would  yield  noth- 
ing. Fred  wrote  that  the  beets  that  had  taken  a  second 
growth  were  worthless  for  producing  sugar. 

That  letter  settled  the  whole  question  as  our  open,  moist 
autumn  weather  would  surely  at  times  destroy  the  crop, 
and  would  make  it  extremely  hazardous  to  enter  into  the 
business  and  so  the  whole  matter  was  dropped  as  well  as 
$2,500.00  of  expenses  incurred.  Subsequently,  however, 
the  business  has  been  successfully  established  in  the  drier 
climate  of  the  eastern  part  of  Washington  and  Oregon. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

the  history  op  a  history. 

Before  giving  an  account  of  the  adventure  incident  to 
marking  the  Oregon  Trail  given  in  detail  in  chapters  to 
follow  in  this  volume,  I  wnll  write  of  one  more  adventure 
following  my  return  from  the  Klondike;  that  is,  of  my 
writing  a  book.  The  simple  act  of  writing  a  book  was  in 
no  sense  either  a  venture  or  an  adventure,  though  it  took 
me  over  three  years  to  do  it.     But  when  I  undertook  to 


232  A  Busy  Life 

have  it  printed  (au  afterthought),  then  a  real  venture  con- 
fronted me.  No  local  works  so  far  had  paid  printers'  bills 
and  I  was  admonished  by  friends  that  a  loss  would  un- 
doubtedly occur  if  I  ]nunted  the  work.  But  their  fears 
were  not  well  founded,  the  work  was  printed,*  the  sales 
were  made  and  the  printer  paid. 

Four  years  ago  today  I  arrived  at  the  ripe  age  of  three 
score  years  and  ten,  supposed  to  be  the  limit  of  life.  Find- 
ing that  I  possessed  more  ambition  than  strength,  and 
Hiat  my  disposition  for  a  strenuous  life  was  greater  than 
my  power  of  physical  endurance,  I  naturally  turned  to 
other  fields  of  work,  that  condition  of  life  so  necessary  for 
the  welfare  and  liappiness  of  the  human  race. 

Many  years  befoi'e  it  had  been  my  amlntion  to  write 
our  earlier  experiences  of  pioneer  life  on  Puget  Sound. 
and  not  necessarily  for  the  printer,  but  because  I  wanted 
to,  but  never  conld  find  time ;  and  so  when  the  change 
came  and  my  usnal  occupation  was  gone,  what  else  would 
1  be  more  likely  to  do  than  to  turn  to  my  long  delayed 
work,  the  more  particularly  being  admonished  that  it 
must  be  done  soon  or  not  at  all.  And  so,  in  a  cheerful, 
happy  mood,  T  entered  again  into  the  domain  of  pioneer 
life,  and  began  writing.  But  this  is  not  history,  you  will 
say.    True,  but  we  will  come  to  that  by    and  by. 

T  had,  during  the  summer  of  1853,  with  an  inexperi- 
enced companion,  in  an  open  boat — a  frail  skiff  built  with 
our  own  hands — crossed  the  path  of  Theodore  Winthrop, 
spending  more  tlian  a  month  on  a  cruise  from  Olympia  to 
the  Straits  and  return,  while  that  adventurous  traveler 
and  delightful  writer  had  with  a  crew  of  Indians  made 
the  trip  from  Port  Townsend  to  Fort  Nisqually  in  a  canoe. 
I  had  followed  Winthi-op  a  year  later  through  the  Natchess 
Pass  to  the  Columbia  River  and  beyond,  alone,  except  a 
companion  pony  that  carried  my  sack  of  hard  bread  for 
food,  the  saddle  blanket  for  my  bed  and  myself  across  the 
turbulent  rivers,  and  on  easy  grades.  If  Winthrop  could 
write  such  a  beautiful  book,  "The  Canoe  and  the  Saddle," 

*Pioneer]^Reniiniscencfs"of.Pugel  Sound,  The  Tragedy  of  Leschi. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  233 

based  upon  such  a  trip,  with  ludians  to  paddle  his  canoe 
on  the  Sound,  and  with  an  attendant  and  three  horses 
thi'oug'h  tlic  mountains,  why  should  not  my  own  experi- 
ence of  such  a  trip  be  interesting  to  my  own  children  and 
their  children's  children?    And  so  1  wrote  these  trips. 

Did  you  ever,  when  hungry,  taste  of  a  dish  of  fruit,  a 
luscious,  ripe,  highly  flavored  apple  for  instance,  that 
seemed  only  to  whet  but  not  satisfy  your  appetite?  I 
know  you  have,  and  so  can  appreciate  my  feelings  when 
these  stories  were  written.  1  craved  more  of  pioneer  life 
experience,  and  so  I  w^ent  back  to  the  earlier  scenes,  a 
little  earlier  only — to  the  trip  in  a  flat  hoat  down  the 
Columbia  River  from  The  Dalles  to  the  first  cabin,  where 
Kalama  town  now  stands;  to  the  pack  on  our  backs  from 
the  Columbia  to  the  Sound;  to  the  three  times  passing 
the  road  to  and  fro  to  get  the  wife  and  baby  to  tide- 
vrater — what  a  charm  that  word  tidewater  had  for  me 
with  a  vision  of  the  greatness  of  opportunities  of  the  sea- 
board— and  I  may  say  it  has  never  lost  its  charm — of  the 
great  world  opened  up  before  me,  and  so  we  were  soon 
again  housed  in  the  little  cabin  with  its  puncheon  floor, 
" cat-and-clay "  chimney,  and  clapboard  roof;  its  sur- 
roundings of  scenery;  of  magnificent  forests  and  of  con- 
stantly moving  life,  the  Indians  witli  their  happy  song 
and  fishing  parties. 

All  this  and  more,  too,  I  wrote,  every  now  and  then 
getting  over  to  the  Indian  question.  How  could  I  help 
it?  We  had  been  treated  civilly,  and  I  may  say,  kindly, 
by  them  from  the  very  outset,  when  we,  almost  alone, 
were  their  white  neighbors.  I  had  been  treated  gener- 
ously by  some,  and  had  always  found  them  ready  to  re- 
ciprocate in  acts  of  kindness,  and  so  we  liad  come  to  respect 
our  untutored  neighbors  and  to  sympathize  with  them  in 
their  troubles.  Deep  troubles  came  to  them  when  the 
treaty-making  period  arrived,  and  a  little  later  upon  all 
of  us,  when  war  came,  to  break  up  all  our  plans  and 
amicable  relations.  As  I  began  to  write  more  a])out  the 
Indians  and  their  ways,  a  step  further  l)roug]it  me  to  the 


234  A  Busy  Life 

consideration  of  our  Territorial  government  and  the  gov- 
enment  officials  and  their  acts.  It  gradually  dawned  upon 
me  this  was  a  more  important  work  than  wTiting  of 
humble  individuals;  that  the  history  of  our  commonwealth 
was  by  far  a  more  interesting  theme,  and  more  profitable 
to  the  generations  to  follow  than  recording  of  private 
achievements  of  the  pioneer.  It  was  but  a  step  further 
until  I  realized  that  I  was  fairly  launched  upon  the  domain 
of  history,  ajid  that  I  must  need  be  more  painstaking  and 
more  certain  of  my  facts,  and  so  then  came  a  long  rest 
for  my  pen  and  a  long  search  of  the  records,  of  old  musty 
letters,  of  no  less  old  musty  books,  of  forgetful  minds  of 
the  pioneers  left,  and  again  I  was  carried  away  into  the 
almost  forgotten  past. 

An  authoress  once  told  me  that  she  never  named  her 
book  until  after  it  was  written.  I  could  not  then  under- 
stand why,  but  I  now  do.  While  writing  of  pioneer  life 
I  could  think  of  no  other  title  than  something  like  this: 
"Pioneer  Life  on  Puget  Sound  Fifty  Years  Ago,"  a  pretty 
long  title,  but  that  was  what  the  writing  treated  of.  But 
when  I  got  on  the  Indian  question  and  came  to  realize  what 
a  splendid  true  story  was  wrapped  up  in  the  darkness  of 
impending  oblivion ;  how  the  Indians  had  been  wronged ; 
how  they  had  fought  for  their  homes  and  won  them;  how 
the  chief  actors  had  been  sacrificed,  but  the  tribes  had 
profited — I  again  became  enthusiastic  over  my  theme  and 
over  my  ready-made  heroes,  and  before  I  realized  it,  lo ! 
a  new  name  took  possession  of  my  mind  and  rang  in  it 
until  there  was  born  the  title,  "The  Tragedy  of  Leschi," 

When  I  come  to  think  of  it,  that  here  were  tribes  that 
had  never  shed  white  men's  blood  until  grim  war  came, 
and  that  then  they  refused  to  make  war  on  their  old  neigh- 
bors, and  that  but  one  non-combatant  settler  had  lost  his 
life  after  the  first  day  of  frenzy  of  the  Muckleshoot  band 
at  the  massacre  of  White  River,  that  here  were  men  we 
(tailed  savages,  fighting  for  a  cause,  but  threw  themselves 
on  the  track  of  the  military  arm  of  the  government  and 
not  against  helpless  settlers.     I  had  myself  been  in  their 


Ventirks  and  Advkntures  235 

power  and  j'emained  unhfinned.  I  knew  other  of  my  neigh- 
bors also  that  had  been  exposed  and  remained  unmolested ; 
surely  to  tell  the  truth  about  such  people  is  no  more  than 
justice  and  I  said  to  myself,  T  will  write  it  down  and  prove 
what  I  write  by  the  records  and  the  best  obtainable  wit- 
nesses alive,  and  having  done  so,  will  print  it,  two  books 
in  one,  two  titles,  yet  ])ut  one  volume,  "Pioneer  Rem- 
iniscences of  Puget  Sound;  The  Tragedy  of  Leschi. " 

It  is  natural  that  in  the  stirring  times  of  early  days 
opinions  would  difiPer ;  that  neighbors,  and  even  mem])ers 
of  families,  would  look  upon  events  from  different  points 
of  view,  and  so  out  of  this  maze  I  have  tried  to  state  exact 
facts  and  draw  just  conclusions.  The  chapter  of  this  his- 
tory begins  with  the  creation  of  the  Territory  and  ends 
with  Governor  Stevens'  official  life  in  the  Territory  in  the 
period  concerned.  During  tliat  period,  treaties  were  made 
with  the  Indians,  the  war  with  them  was  fought;  mas- 
sacres horrid  to  contemplate  were  perpetrated  by  the  In- 
dians and  whites — by  the  Indians  at  the  outbreak,  and  the 
whites  later — murders  were  committed ;  martial  law  pro- 
claimed, our  courts  invaded  with  armed  men,  judges 
dragged  from  the  bench:  our  governor  in  turn  brought 
before  the  courts,  fined  and  rejn-ieved  by  himself,  and 
many  other  happenings  unique  in  history  are  related,  and 
so,  when  my  labor  was  finished  and  my  pen  laid  aside,  my 
only  regret  was  that  the  work  had  not  been  undertaken 
earlier  in  life  when  memory  served  more  accurately,  and 
my  contemporaries  were  moi'e  numerous. 


CHAPTEPt  XXXIX. 

BANKING. 

My  connection  with  the  banking  business  in  Puyallup 
was  neither  a  venture  nor  an  adventure,  in  the  common 
acceptance  of  the  meaning  of  these  words,  and  to  this  day 
I  can  scarcely  account  for  my  action.     I  am  sure  that  I 


236  A  Busy  Life 

was  not  "cut  out"  for  a  l)ankei',  and  llic  l)iisiiiess  liad  no 
attraction  for  nio.  T  did  want  to  see  a  national  ])ank  estab- 
lished in  Puyallup,  and  so  took  $10,000.00  of  the  stock, 
became  a  member  of  the  directory,  and  committed  the  grave 
indiscretion  of  letting  others  "run  the  bank"  without  giv- 
ing it  personal  attention. 

In  the  lapse  of  time  parties  controlling  a  majority  of 
the  stock  "run  it  into  the  ground,"  to  use  a  western  phrase, 
that  is,  loaned  to  their  cousins  and  their  aunts,  to  them- 
selves indirectly,  and  to  others  indiscreetly,  until  matters 
looked  shaky.  Suddeiily  "business"  called  these  parties 
to  other  and  more  attractive  fields,  and  In.  and  behold,  I 
became  a  bank  president. 

This  was  just  before  the  time  of  the  panic,  and  the  ques- 
tion of  what  was  to  become  of  the  bank  became  one  of  the 
utmost  concern.  The  notes  were  nearly  all  hypothecated 
to  secure  loans  from  other  banks,  while  the  tightening 
times  caused  the  deposits  to  run  down ;  the  securities  could 
not  be  realized  upon,  and  the  ])anks  holding  them  called 
for  their  loans.  The  depositors,  about  one  hundred  in 
number,  were  all  my  neiglibors,  and  men  and  women  of 
small  means.  One  thing  was  certain — could  not  continue 
to  receive  dejiosits  with  the  knowledge  I  had  of  the  affairs 
of  the  bank,  either  with  safety  to  myself  or  the  depositors. 
So  one  day  when  the  deposits  had  run  to  a  very  low  ebb. 
and  the  cash  balance  correspondingly  low,  and  a  threaten- 
ing demand  had  been  made  by  one  of  the  secured  banks, 
it  was  evident  the  time  had  come  when  the  bank  must  go 
into  the  hands  of  a  receiver  and  what  money  was  on  hand 
to  be  frittered  away  in  receiver's  fees,  or  pay  out  the 
money  on  hand  to  the  depositors,  and  let  the  creditor  banks 
collect  on  their  collaterals.  It  was  impracticable  to  pay 
depositors  in  part,  or  part  of  them  in  full.  October  16th, 
1895,  on  my  own  respousil)ility  T  obtained  enough,  with 
the  funds  of  the  bank  in  hand,  to  pay  the  depositors  in 
full.  An  attorney  for  one  of  the  secured  creditors  of  the 
bank  suspected  what  was  going  on,  and  believing  the  money 
was  on  my  person  undertook  to  detain  me  in  an  office  in 


VeiXtcres  axd  Advexttkes  2-37 

Tacoraa  until  papei's  could  he  gotten  out  and  served.  But 
he  was  too  late,  as  A.  R.  Herlig,  my  attorney,  was  already 
in  Puyallup  witii  tlie  funds,  with  directions  to  take  all  the 
funds  of  the  bank  at  nightfall,  and  with  the  cashier,  George 
Macklin,  now  of  Portland,  go  to  each  depositor,  and  with- 
out explanation  insist  on  their  taking  the  money  due  them. 
Charles  Hood,  of  Puyallup,  and,  T  think,  John  P.  Hart- 
man,  now  of  Seattle,  was  of  the  jiarty.  Two  trusted  men 
with  guns  were  sent  along  to  guard  the  funds.  In  fact, 
all  carried  guns,  and  so  the  story  went  out  that  the  bank 
had  sent  each  depositor  what  was  due  him,  and  sent  men 
along  with  guns  to  make  him  take  it.  This  became  an 
alleged  witticism  for  a  long  time  in  Puyallup,  but  finally 
wore  itself  out.  The  result  was  that  before  four  o'clock 
next  morning  all  the  depositors  were  paid,  except  four, 
who  could  not  be  found,  and  the  next  day  the  bank  was 
open  just  the  same  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  but  all 
deposits  were  refused.  The  attempted  hold-up  in  Tacoma 
resulted  in  nothing  more  serious  than  a  scuffle,  the  loss  of 
a  collar  button  or  two,  with  plenty  of  threats,  but  no 
action. 

I  took  the  train  for  Puyallup,  went  to  bed  at  the  usual 
hour,  and  slept  soundly,  as  1  always  do. 

As  expected,  in  a  few  days  a  bank  examiner  came  to 
take  possession  of  the  bank,  having  received  direct  orders 
from  Washington  from  Mr.  Eckles,  the  eompti'oller.  In 
a  week  he  was  willing  to  quit,  and  asked  that  the  bank 
should  be  turned  over  to  the  directors,  and  was  ordered 
to  do  so.  The  affairs  of  the  bank  were  closed  up  without 
litigation,  but  the  capital  was  gone,  and  all  that  was  left 
was  the  fui-niture  and  the  charter,  which  is  held  to  be 
valid  to  this  day,  and  so  it  would  seem  I  am  yet  the  presi- 
dent of  the  First  National  Rank  of  Puyallup,  and  have  been 
for  nearly  twenty  years. 

A  few  years  ago  the  late  Charles  Fogg,  of  Tacoma,  act- 
ing as  an  attorney  for  a  group  of  capitalists,  undertook  to 
marshal  the  scattered  and  really  worthless  stock  with  a 
view  to  rehabilitate  the  bank  and  save  the  name,  but  were 


238  A  Busy  Life 

met  by  somo  obstinate  stoeklioldors  wbo  refused  to  either  co 
operate  or  dispose  of  their  holdings  and  so  the  bank  sleeps 
though  not  dead.  Possibly  when  the  "Rip  A^an  Winkle 
sleep"  has  lapsed  and  when  the  little  city  of  Puyallup  has 
reached  the  twenty-thousand  mark  of  inhabitants  and  one 
or  two  more  of  the  recalcitrant  stockholders  die  (one  of 
the  chief  obstructionists  died  since  the  attempt  was  made), 
the  bank  may  reappear  as  one  of  the  institutions  of  the 
rising  city  of  Puyallup. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE    KLONDIKE    VENTURE. 

After  the  failure  of  the  hop  business,  I  undertook  a 
venture  to  the  mines  of  the  north.  This  resulted  in  a  real 
live  adventure  of  exciting  experience. 

I  had  lived  in  the  old  Oregon  country  forty-four  years 
and  had  never  seen  a  mine.  IMining  had  no  attraction  for 
me,  any  more  than  corner  lots  in  new,  embryo  cities.  I 
did  not  understand  the  value  of  either,  and  left  both 
severely  alone.  But  when  my  accumulations  had  all  been 
swallowed  up,  the  land  T  had  previously  owned  gone  into 
other  hands,  and,  in  fact,  my  occupation  gone.  I  concluded 
to  take  a  chance  in  a  mining  country;  matters  could  not 
well  be  much  worse,  and  probably  could  be  made  better, 
and  so  in  the  spring  of  1898  I  made  my  first  trip  over  the 
Chilcoot  Pass,  and  then  down  the  Yukon  River  to  Dawson 
in  a  tint-boat,  and  ran  the  famous  White  Horse  Rapids  with 
my  load  of  vegetables  for  the  Klondike  miners. 

One  may  read  of  the  Chilcoot  Pass  the  most  graphic 
descriptions  written,  and  yet  when  he  is  up  against  the 
experience  of  crossing,  he  will  find  the  difficulties  more 
formidable  than  his  wildest  fancy  or  expectation  had 
pictured.  I  started  in  with  fifteen  tons  of  freight,  and 
got  through  with  nine.  On  one  stretch  of  2,000  feet  I  paid 
forty  dollars  a  ton   freight,  and    I   knew  of  others  paying 


Ventures  and  Adventures  239 

more.  The  trip  for  a  part  of  the  way  reminded  me  of  the 
scenes  on  the  Plains  in  1852 — such  crowds  that  they  jostled 
each  other  on  the  several  parallel  trails  where  there  was 
room  for  more  than  one  track.  At  the  pass,  most  of  the 
travel  came  upon  one  track,  and  so  steep  that  the  ascent 
could  only  be  made  by  cutting  steps  in  the  ice  and  snow — 
1,500  in  all. 

Frequently  every  step  would  be  full,  while  crowds  jostled 
each  other  at  the  foot  of  the  ascent  to  get  into  the  single 
file,  each  man  carrying  from  one  hundred  (it  was  said) 
to  two  hundred  pounds  pack  on  his  back.  Nevertheless, 
after  all  sorts  of  experiences,  I  arrived  in  Dawson,  with 
nine  tons  of  my  outfit,  sold  my  fresh  potatoes  at  $36.00 
a  bushel  and  other  things  in  like  proportionate  prices  and 
in  two  weeks  started  up  the  river,  homeward  bound,  with 
two  hundred  ounces  of  Klondike  gold  in  ray  belt.  But 
four  round  trips  in  two  years  satisfied  me  that  I  did  not 
want  any  more  of  like  experience.  Then  was  when  my 
mind  would  run  on  this  last  venture,  the  monument  expe- 
dition, while  writing-  the  Reminiscences,*  a  part  of  which 
are  elsewhere  to  be  found  in  this  volume.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  loss  of  my  business,  it  is  doubtful  if  I  ever  would 
have  settled  down  to  this  work,  and  so,  maybe,  the  loss 
\vas  a  blessing  in  disguise.  Anyway,  no  happier  years  of 
my  life  were  passed  than  while  engaged  in  writing  it. 

As  I  have  said,  the  trips  to  the  Klondike  became  real 
adventures.  Fortunately  detained  for  a  couple  of  days,  I 
escaped  the  avalanche  that  buried  fifty-two  people  in  the 
snow,  and  passed  by  the  morgue  the  second  day  after  the 
catastrophe  on  my  way  to  the  summit,  and  doubtless  over 
the  bodies  of  many  unknown  dead,  imbedded  so  deeply  in 
the  snow  that  it  was  utterly  impossible  to  recover  them. 

I  received  a  good  ducking  in  my  first  passage  through 
the  White  Horse  Rapids,  and  vowed  I  would  not  go  through 
there  again,  but  I  did,  the  very  next  trip  that  same  year, 
and  came  out  of  it  dry ;  then  when  going  down  the  thirty- 

*  "Pioneer  Reminiscences  of  Puget  Sound,"  600  pages,  $3.00.  Address  Ezra  Meeker, 
1201  38th  Ave.  N.,  Seattle,  Wa.sh. 


-•*      5 


Ventures  and  Adventures  241 

mile  river,  it  did  seem  as  though  we  could  not  escape  being 
(hislied  upon  tlie  rocks,  but  somehow  or  another  got  thi-ongh 
safel}'  wliilethe  bank  of  thai  rivei"  was  strewed  witli  wrecks, 
and  the  waters  had  sAvallowed  up  many  victims.  Wlien 
the  Yukon  proper  Avas  readied,  the  current  was  not  so 
swift  but  the  shoals  were  mnnerous,  and  more  than  once 
we  were  ''hung  up"  on  the  bar,  and  always  with  an  un- 
certainty as  to  how  we  would  get  olf.  In  all  of  this  expe- 
rience of  the  two  trips  by  the  scows  no  damage  resulted, 
except  once  when  a  hole  was  jammed  into  the  scow,  and 
we  thought  we  were  "goners"  certain,  but  effected  a  land- 
ing so  quickly  as  to  unload  our  cargo  dry.  I  now  blajue 
myself  for  taking  such  risks,  but  curiously  enough  I  must 
admit  that  I  enjoyed  it,,  sustained,  no  doubt,  with  the  high 
hopes  of  coming  out  with  "my  pile."  But  fate  or  some- 
thing else  was  against  me,  for  the  after  mining  experience 
swept  all  the  accumulation  away  "slick  as  a  mitten,"  as 
the  old  saying  goes,  and  I  came  out  over  the  rotten  ice  of 
the  Yukon  in  April  of  1901  to  stay,  and  to  vow  I  never 
wanted  to  see  another  mine,  or  visit  another  mining  coun- 
try. Small  wonder,  you  may  say,  when  I  write,  that  in 
two  weeks'  time  after  arriving  home  I  was  able  to,  and 
did  celebrate  our  golden  wedding  with  the  wife  of  fifty 
years  and  enjoyed  the  joys  of  a  welcome  home  even  if  I 
did  not  have  my  pockets  filled  with  gold.  I  had  then 
passed  the  seventy-year  mark,  and  thought  my  "pet 
project, ' '  as  some  people  call  it,  of  marking  the  old  Oregon 
Trail,  was  hung  up  indefinitely,  but  the  sequel  is  shown 
in  what  followed  and  is  the  answer  to  my  foreboding.  I 
am  now  at  this  writing  past  the  eighty-fifth  year  mark, 
and  cannot  see  but  I  am  as  strong  as  when  I  floated  down 
the  Yukon  in  a  flatboat,  or  packed  my  goods  over  the  Chil- 
coot  Pass,  or  drove  my  ox  team  over  the  summit  of  the 
Rocky  ]\Iountains  on  my  recent  trip  to  mark  the  historic 
Oregon  Trail. 


17— 195S 


242  A  Busy  Life 


THE  DREAM  OF  THE  STAR. 

[A  song  of  the  Oregon  Trail.     Dedioated  to  Ezra 
Meeker,  Pioneer.) 

I 

A  .song  for  tlie  men  who  blazed  the  way! 

With  hearts  that  woukl  not  quail; 
They  made  brave  quest  of  the  wild  Northwest, 

They  cut  the  Oregon  trail. 

Back  of  them  beckoned  their  kith  and  kin 

And  all  that  they  held  their  own; 
Front  of  them  .spread  the  wilderness  dread. 

And  ever  the  vast  unknown. 

But  ever  they  kept  their  forward  course! 

And  never  they  thought  to  lag. 
For  over  them  Hew  the  Red,  White  and  Blue 

And  the  dream  of  a  star  for  the  flag! 

II 

A  cheer  for  the  men  who  cut  the  trail! 

With  souls  as  firm  aa  steel 
And  fiery  as  wrath  they  hewed  the  path 

For  the  coming  Commonweal. 

■And  close  on  the  heels  of  the  pioneers 

The  eager  throng  closed  in 
And  followed  the  road  to  a  far  abode. 

An  Empire  new  to  win. 

And  so  they  wrought  at  the  end  of  the  trail, 

As  ever  must  brave  men  do. 
Till  out  of  the  dark  there  gleamed  a  spark, 

And  the  dream  of  the  star  came  true. 

Ill 

A  toast  to  the  men  who  made  the  road! 

And  a  health  to  the  men  who  dwell 
In  the  great  new  land  by  the  heroes  planned. 

Who  have  builded  it  wide  and  well ! 

The  temple  stands  where  the  pine  tree  stood, 

And  dim  is  the  ancient  trail, 
But  many  and  wide  are  the  roads  that  guide 

And  staunch  are  the  ships  that  sail! 

Ff)r  the  land  is  a  grand  antl  gootlly  land, 

.'Vnd  its  fruitful  fields  are  tilled 
By  the  sons  who  see  on  the  flag  of  the  free 

The  dream  of  the  star  fulfilled  ! 

ROBERT US  LOVE. 


The  Oregon  Trail  Monument  Expedition. 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

THE  ox. 

Tlu!  ox  is  passing ;  in  fact,  has  passed.  Like  the  old-time 
spinning-wheel  and  the  hand  loom,  that  are  only  to  be  seen 
as  mementos  of  the  past,  or  the  quaint  old  cobbler's  bench 
with  its  hand-made  lasts  and  shoe  pegs,  or  the  heavy  iron 
bubbling  mush  pots  on  the  crane  in  the  chinniey  corner ; 
like  the  fast  vanishing  of  the  old-time  men  and  women  of 
sixty  years  or  more  ago — all  are  passing,  to  be  laid  aside 
for  the  new  ways,  and  the  new  actors  on  the  scenes  of  life. 
While  these  ways  and  these  scenes  and  these  actors  have 
had  theii-  day,  yet  their  experiences  and  the  lesson  tanght 
are  not  lost  to  the  ^vorld,  although  at  times  almost  for- 
gotten. 

The  ditference  between  a  civilized  and  an  untutored 
people  lies  in  the  application  of  these  experiences;  while 
the  one  builds  upon  the  foundations  of  the  past,  which 
engenders  hope  and  ambition  for  the  future,  the  other  has 
no  past,  nor  aspirations  for  the  future.  As  reverence  for 
the  past  dies  out  in  the  breasts  of  a  generation,  so  likewise 
patriotism  wanes.  In  the  measure  that  the  love  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  past  dies,  so  likewise  do  the  higher  aspirations 
for  the  future.  To  keep  the  flame  of  patriotism  alive  we 
must  keep  the  memory  of  the  past  vividly  in  mind. 

Bearing  these  thoughts  in  mind,  this  expedition  to  per- 
petuate the  memory  of  the  old  Oregon  Trail  was  under- 
taken. And  there  was  this  further  thought,  that  here  was 
this  class  of  heroic  men  and  women  who  fought  a  veritable 
battle — a  battle  of  peace,  to  be  sure,  yet  as  brave  a  battle 
as  any  ever  fought  by  those  who  faced  the  cannon's  mouth 
— a  battle  that  was  fraught  with  as  momentous  results  as 
any  of  the  great  battles  of  grim  war — a  battle  that  wrested 
half  a  continent  from  the  native  race  and  from  a  mighty 
nation  contending  for  mastery  in  the  unknown  regions  of 

C243) 


244  A  Busy  Life 

the  West — whose  fame  was  scantily  acknowledged,  whose 
name  Avas  already  almost  forgotten,  and  whose  track,  the 
battle-ground  of  peace,  was  on  the  verge  of  impending 
oblivion.  Shall  this  become  an  establislied  fact?  The  an- 
swer to  this  is  this  expedition,  to  ])erpetiiate  the  memory 
of  the  old  Oi-cgon  Trail,  and  to  honor  the  intrepid  pioneers 
who  made  it  and  saved  this  great  region — the  "Old  Oregon 
Country" — for  American  rule. 

The  ox  team  was  chosen  as  a  typical  reminder  of  pioneer 
days,  and  as  an  effective  instrument  to  attract  attention, 
arouse  enthusiasm,  and  as  a  help  to  secure  aid  to  forward 
the  work  of  mai'king  the  old  Trail,  and  erecting  monuments 
in  centers  of  population. 

The  team  consisted  of  one  seven-year-old  ox.  Twist,  and 
one  unbroken  range  five-year-old  steer,  Dave.  When  we 
were  ready  to  start.  Twist  weighed  1,470  and  Dave  1,560 
pounds,  respectively.  This  order  of  weight  was  soon 
changed.  In  three  months'  time  Twist  gained  130  and 
Dave  lost  10  pounds.  All  this  time  I  fed  with  a  lavish 
hand  all  the  rolled  bai'ley  T  dare  and  all  the  hay  they 
would  eat.  During  that  time  thirty-three  days  lapsed  in 
which  we  did  not  travel,  being  engaged  eitlier  arranging 
for  the  erection  or  dedication  of  monuments. 

The  wagon  is  new  woodwork  throughout  exce])t  one  iuib. 
which  did  service  across  the  plains  in  1853.  The  hub 
bands,  boxes  and  other  irons  are  from  two  old-time  wagons 
that  crossed  the  plains  in  1853,  and  differ  some  in  size 
and  shape ;  hence  the  fore  and  hind  wheel  hubs  do  not 
match.  The  axles  are  wood,  with  the  old-time  linch  pins 
and  steel  skeins,  involving  the  use  of  tar  and  the  tar  bucket. 
The  bed  is  of  the  old  style  "prairie  schooner,"  so  called, 
fashioned  as  a  boat,  like  those  of  "ye  olden  times."  I 
crossed  Snake  River  in  two  places  in  1852,  with  all  f  jios- 
sessed  (excei)t  the  oxen  and  cows),  including  tlie  running 
gear  of  the  wagon,  in  a  wagon-box  not  as  good  as  this  one 
shown  in  the  illustration. 

In  one  respect  the  object  was  attained,  that  of  attract 
ing  attention,  with  results  in  part  wholly  unexpected.     I 
liad   scarcely  di'iven  the  outfit  away  from   my  own   door- 


VkNTI'RKS    and    AnVKNTHRES 


245 


yard  till  tlir  work  oi"  (l(>faciiig  the  wagon  and  wagon  cover, 
and  even  the  nice  iiiap  of  the  old  Trail,  began.  First,  T 
noticed  a  name  or  two  written  on  the  wagon-bed,  then  a 
dozen  oi-  more,  all  stealthily  ])]aced  there,  until  the  whole 
was  so  closely  covered  there  was  no  room  foi-  more.  Finally 
the  vandals  began  carving  iintials  on  the  wagon  bed,  cutting 
oflp  pieces  to  carry  away.  Eventually  1  put  a  stop  to  it  by 
employing  a  special  police,  posting  notices,  and  nabbing 
some  in  the  very  act. 


Ezra  Meeker's  Homestead,  PuyaUup,  Washing-ton;  Camp  No,  1, 
the  Oreg-on  Trail  Monument  Expedition. 


Give  me  Indians  on  the  plain  to  contend  with,  give  me 
fleas — ah,  yes,  the  detested  sage  brush  ticks  to  burrow  in 
your  flesh — but  deliver  me  from  the  degenerates  who  are 
cheap  notoriety  seekers. 

IMany  good  i)eople  have  thought  there  was  some  organiza- 
tion behind  this  work,  or  that  there  had  been  Government 
aid  secured.  To  all  of  this  class,  and  to  those  who  may  read 
these  lines,  I  Avill  quote  from  the  cai-ds  issued  at  the  out- 
set:     "  The  exi)ense  of  this  expedition  to  perpetuate  the 


246  A  Busy  Life 

memory  of  the  old  Oregon  Trail,  by  erecting  stone  monu- 
ments is  borne  by  myself  except  such  voluntaiy  aid  as  may 
be  given  by  those  taking  an  interest  in  the  work,  and  you 
are  respectfully  solicited  to  contribute  such  sum  as  may 
be  convenient."  The  use  of  these  cards  was  soon  discon- 
tinued, however.  After  leaving  Portland  no  more  contri- 
butions were  solicited  or  in  fact  received  for  the  general 
expense  of  the  expedition,  and  only  donations  for  local 
monuments,  to  be  expended  by  local  committees  were  taken. 
I  found  this  course  necessary  to  disarm  criticism  of  the 
inveterate  croakers,  more  interested  in  searching  some  form 
of  criticism  than  in  lending  a  helping  hand. 

To  my  appeal  a  generous  response  has  been  made,  how- 
ever, as  attested  by  the  line  of  monuments  between  Puget 
Sound  and  the  IMissouri  River,  a  brief  account  of  which, 
with  incidents  of  the  trip  made  by  me  with  an  ox  team, 
will  follow. 


CHAPTER  XLlf. 

THE   START. 

Camp  No.  1  was  in  my  front  dooryard  at  Puyallup, 
Washington,  a  town  established  on  my  own  homestead 
nearly  forty  years  ago,  on  the  line  of  the  Northern  Pacific 
Railroad,  nine  miles  southeast  of  Tacoma,  and  thirty  miles 
south  of  Seattle,  Washington.  In  platting  the  town  T  dedi- 
cated a  park  and  called  it  Pioneer  Park,  and  in  it  are  the 
remains  of  our  ivy-covered  cabin,  where  the  Mdfe  of  fifty- 
eight  years  and  I,  with  our  growing  family,  spent  so  many 
happy  hours.  In  this  same  town  I  named  the  principal 
thoi'oughfare  Pioneer  Avenue,  and  a  short  street  abutting 
the  park  Pioneer  Way,  hence  the  reader  may  note  it  is  not 
a  new  idea  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  th.e  pioneers. 

No  piece  of  machinery  ever  runs  at  the  start  as  well  as 
after  trial;  therefore  Canip  No.  1  was  maintained  several 
days  to  mend  up  the  weak  points,  and  so  after  a  few  days 
of  trial  everything  was  pronounced  in   order,  and   Camp 


-,^«^' 


The  Ivy-Covered  Cabin,  the  First  House  in  Puyallup;  the  Early 
Home  of  Ezra  Meeker, 


248  A  Busy  Life 

No.  2  was  pitched  in  the  street  iu  front  of  the  IMethodist 
church  of  the  town,  and  a  lecture  was  delivered  in  the 
church  for  the  benefit  of  the  expedition. 

I  drove  to  Seattle,  passing  through  tiie  towns  of  Sum- 
ner, Auburn  and  Kent,  lecturing  in  each  place,  with  in- 
different success,  as  the  people  seemed  to  pay  more  atten- 
tion to  the  ox  team  than  the>-  did  to  me,  and  cared  more 
to  be  in  the  open,  asking  trivial  ((uestions,  than  to  be  listen- 
ing to  the  story  of  the  Oregon  Trail.  However,  when  I 
came  to  count  the  I'csults  1  found  ninety-two  dollars  in  my 
pocket,  but  also  found  out  that  I  could  not  lecture  and 
make  any  headway  in  the  work  of  getting  monuments 
erected;  that  I  must  remain  in  the  open,  where  I  could 
meet  all  the  people  and  not  merely  a  small  minority,  and 
so  the  lecture  scheme  was  soon  after  abandoned. 

Then  I  thought  to  arouse  an  interest  and  secure  some  aid 
in  Seattle,  where  I  had  hosts  of  friends  and  acquaintances, 
but  nothing  came  out  of  the  effort — my  closest  friends  try- 
ing to  dissuade  me  from  going — and,  I  may  say,  actually 
tried  to  convince  others  that  it  would  not  be  an  act  of 
friendship  to  lend  any  aid  to  the  enterprise.  What,  for 
lack  of  a  better  name,  T  might  call  a  benign  humor  under- 
lay all  this  solicitude.  1  knew%  or  thouglit  I  knew,  my 
powers  of  physical  endurance  to  warrant  undertaking  the 
ordeal;  that  I  could  successfully  make  the  trip,  but  my 
closest  friends  were  the  most  obdurate,  and  so  after  spend- 
ing two  weeks  in  Seattle  I  shipped  my  outfit  by  steamer  to 
Tacoina.  Conditions  there  were  much  the  same  as  at 
Seattle.  A  pleasant  incident,  however,  broke  the  monotony. 
Henry  Hewitt,  of  Tacoma,  drove  up  alongside  my  team, 
then  standing  on  Pacific  Avenue,  and  said,  "Meeker,  if  you 
get  broke  out  there  on  the  Plains,  just  telegraph  me  for 
money  to  come  back  on. ' '  I-  said  no,  "I  would  rather  hear 
you  say  to  telegraph  for  money  to  go  on  with.'  "All 
right,"  came  the  response,  "have  it  that  way  tlien,"  and 
drove  off.  perhaps  not  afterwards  giving  tlie  conversation 
a  second  thouglit  until  he  received  my  telegram,  telling  liim 
T  had  lost  an  ox  and  tliat  I  wanted  him  to  send  me  two 
hundred  dollars.     As  related  elsewhere,  the  response  came 


The  Old  and  the  Ncav;  Camp  in  Seattle  in  Backgrround; 
Hig-h  School  Building^  in  the  Farther'Background. 


250  A  Busy  Life 

quick,  for  the  next  day  I  received  the  money.  ' '  A  friend  in 
need  is  a  friend  indeed." 

Somehow  no  serious  thought  ever  entei-ed  my  mind  to 
turn  back  after  ou'-e  started,  no  more  than  when  tlie  first 
trip  of  1852  was  made. 

Almost  everyone  has  just  such  an  experience  in  life,  and, 
after  looking  back  over  the  vista  of  years,  wonder  why. 
In  this  case  I  knew  it  Avas  a  case  of  persistence  only,  to 
succeed  in  making  the  trip,  but  of  course  could  not  know 
as  to  the  results;  but  there  was  more  than  this:  I  simply 
wanted  to  do  it,  and  having  once  resolved  to  do  it,  nothing 
but  utter  physical  disability  could  deter  me. 

From  Tacoma  I  shipped  by  steamer  to  Olympia. 

The  terminus  of  the  old  Trail  is  but  two  miles  distant 
from  Olympia,  at  Tumwater,  the  extreme  southern  point 
of  Puget  Sou7id,  and  where  the  waters  of  the  Des  Chutes 
River  mingles  with  the  salt  waters  of  the  Pacific  through 
the  channels  of  Puget  Sound,  Admiralty  Inlet  and  Straits 
or  Fuca,  150  miles  distant.  Here  was  where  the  first 
American  x>&i"ty  of  home-builders  rested  and  settled  in 
1845  and  became  the  end  of  the  Trail,  where  land  and 
water  travel  meet.  At  this  point  I  set  a  post,  and  subse- 
quently arranged  for  an  inscribed  stone  to  be  planted  to 
permanently  mark  the  spot. 

I  quote  from  my  journal:  "Olympia,  Febniary  19th, 
1006. — Spent  the  day  canvassing  for  funds  for  the  monu- 
ment, giving  tickets  for  the  lecture  in  the  evening  in  re- 
turn ;  what  with  the  receipts  at  the  door  and  collections, 
found  I  had  $42.00— $21.00  of  which  was  given  to  Allen 
Weir  for  benefit  of  monument  fund." 

OUT   ON   THE   TRATL. 

"Camp  10,  Tenino,  Feb.  20th. — Wont  to  Tenino  on  train 
to  arrange  for  meeting  and  for  monument;  hired  horse 
team  to  take  outfit  to  Tenino.  16  miles,  and  drove  oxen 
under  the  yoke;  went  into  camp  ncnir  site  of  the  monument 
to  be  erected  about  3  p.  m. " 


Ventures  and  Adventures  251 

■'21st. — A  rcd-lcllci'  (lay;  (!r()V(!  over  to  the  stone  (|uarry 
and  hauled  luoiiuiuent  ovei-  to  site,  where  workman  fol- 
lowed and  put  same  in  plaee.  This  monument  was  donated 
by  the  Tenino  Quarry  Company  and  is  inscribed,  'Old 
Oregon  Trail,  IS-l.l-ilS. '  At  2  o'clock  the  stores  were  closed, 
the  school  children  in  a  body  came  over  and  nearly  the 
whole  population  turned  out  to  the  dedication  of  the  first 
monument  on  the  Trail.  Lectured  in  the  evening  to  a 
good  house — had  splendid  vocal  music.    Receipts  $16.00. 

The  reader  will  note  quotation  from  my  journal,  "hired 
horse  team  to  take  outfit  to  Tenino,"  and  wonder  why  I 
hired  a  team.  I  will  tell  you.  Dave,  the  so-called  ox,  was 
not  an  ox  but  simply  an  unruly  Montana  five-j'^ear-old 
steer  and  as  mean  a  brute  as  ever  walked  on  four  legs.  I 
dare  not  entrust  the  driving  to  other  hands,  and  must 
go  ahead  to  arrange  for  the  monument  and  the  lecture. 
Dave  would  hook  and  kick  and  do  anything  and  all  things 
one  would  not  want  him  to  do,  but  to  behave  himself  was 
not  a  part  of  his  disposition.  Besides,  he  would  stick  his 
tongue  out  from  the  smallest  kind  of  exertion.  At  one 
time  I  became  very  nearly  discouraged  with  him.  He  had 
just  been  shipped  in  off  the  Montana  cattle  range  and  had 
never  had  a  rope  on  him — unless  it  was  when  he  was 
branded — and  like  a  great  big  overgrown  booby  of  a  boy, 
his  flesh  was  flabby  and  he  could  not  endure  any  sort  of 
exertion  without  discomfort.  This  is  the  ox  that  finally 
made  the  round  trip  and  that  bore  his  end  of  the  yoke  from 
the  tide  waters  of  the  Pacific  to  the  tide  waters  of  the 
Atlantic,  at  the  Battery,  New  York  City,  and  to  Washing- 
ton City  to  meet  the  President.  He  finally  became  sub- 
dued, though  not  conquered ;  to  this  day  I  do  not  tinist  his 
heels,  though  he  now  seldom  threatens  with  his  horns.  He 
weighed  in  Washington  City  when  viewed  by  the  Presi- 
dent 1,900  pounds — 330  pounds  more  than  he  did  when 
1  first  put  him  under  the  yoke  twenty-two  months  before.* 
The  ox  "Twist,"  also  shown  in  the  illustration,  suddenly 

♦Finally  2,375  pounds  at  the  age  of  14.  when  he  was  mounted  for  preservation  in  history. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  258 

died  Aii<i-iisl  I),  1 !)()(),  and  was  buried  witliiii  a  few  I'ods 
of  the  Trail,  as  told  in  aiiollici-  chapter.  It  took  two  months 
to  a  day  before  I  could  find  a  mate  for  the  Dave  ox,  and 
then  had  to  take  another  five-year-old  steer  of?  the  cattle 
range  of  Nebraska.  This  steer,  Dandy,  evidently  had  never 
been  hajidled,  but  he  came  of  good  stock  and,  witli  the  ex- 
ception of  awkwardness,  gave  me  no  serious  trouble.  Dandy 
was  pui'chased  out  of  the  stock  yards  of  Omaha,  weighed 
1,470  pounds,  and  the  day  before  he  went  to  see  the  Presi- 
dent tipped  the  scales  at  the  1,760-pound  notch  and  has 
proven  to  be  a  faithful,  serviceable  ox. 

CIIEHALIS,    WASHINGTON. 

At  Chehalis  a  point  was  selected  in  the  center  of  the 
street  at  the  park,  and  a  post  set  to  mark  the  spot  where 
the  monument  is  to  stand.  The  Commercial  Club  under- 
took the  work,  but  were  not  ready  to  erect  and  dedicate, 
as  a  more  expensive  monument  than  one  that  could  be 
speedily  obtained  would  be  provided  as  an  ornament  to 
the  park. 

I  vividly  recollected  this  section  of  the  old  Trail,  having, 
in  company  with  a  brother,  packed  my  blankets  and 
"grub"  on  my  back  over  it  in  May,  1853,  and  camped  on 
it  nearby  over  night,  under  the  sheltering,  drooping 
branches  of  a  friendly  cedar  tree.  "We  did  not  carry  tents 
on  such  a  trip,  but  slept  out  under  the  open  canopy  of 
heaven,  obtaining  such  shelter  as  we  could  from  day  to 
day. 

It  is  permissible  to  note  the  liberality  of  H.  C.  Davis,  of 
Claquato,  who  provided  a  fund  of  $50.00  to  purchase  one 
ox  for  the  expedition,  the  now  famous  ox  Dave  that  made 
the  round  trip  to  the  Atlantic  and  return. 

.TACKSONS. 

John  R.  Jackson  was  the  first  American  citizen  to  settle 
north  of  the  Columbia  River.  One  of  the  daughters,  Mrs. 
Ware,   accompanied  by  her  husband,   indicated   the  spot 


254  A  Busy  Life 

\vliei-e  till'  iiionnnR'iit  should  he  ci-cctcd,  aiul  a  ])()st  was 
planted.  A  touching  inciripnt  was  that  Mrs.  Ware  was 
re(|nested  to  put  the  post  in  })la('('  and  hold  it  \\hilo  lior 
husband  tamped  the  earth  around  it,  which  she  did  with 
tears  streaming  from  her  eyes  at  the  thought  that  at  last 
her  pioneer  father's  place  in  history  was  to  be  recognized. 
A  stone  was  ordered  at  once,  to  soon  take  the  place  of  the 
post. 

TOLEDO,  WASHINGTON. 

Toledo,  the  last  place  to  be  reached  on  the  old  Trail  in 
Washington,  is  on  the  Cowlitz,  a  mile  from  the  landing 
where  the  pioneers  left  the  river  on  the  overland  trail  to 
the  Sound.  Here,  later,  the  citizens  erected  a  suitable 
monument. 

PORTLAND,    OREGON. 

From  Toledo  I  shipped  by  river  steamer  the  whole  out- 
fit, and  took  passage  with  my  assistants  to  Portland,  thus 
reversing  the  order  of  travel  in  1853,  accepting  the  use 
of  steam  instead  of  the  l)rawn  of  stalwart  men  and  Indians 
to  propel  the  canoe,  and  arrived  on  the  evening  of 
March  1,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  2nd  pitched  my  tent 
in  the  heart  of  the  city  on  a  beautiful  vacant  lot,  the  prop- 
erty of  Jacob  Kamm.  I  remained  in  camp  here  until  the 
morning  of  March  9,  to  test  the  question  of  securing  aid  for 
the  expedition. 

Except  for  the  efforts  of  that  indefatigable  worker, 
George  H.  Himes,  secretary  of  the  Oregon  Pioneer  Asso- 
ciation since  1886,  and  assistant  secretary  of  the  Oregon 
Historical  Society,  with  headciuarters  in  Portland,  no  help- 
ing hand  was  extended.  Not  but  that  the  citizens  took  a 
lively  interest  in  the  "novel  undertaking"  in  this  "unique 
outfit,"  yet  the  fact  became  evident  that  ojily  the  few 
believed  the  work  could  be  successfully  done  by  individual 
effort,  and  that  Government  aid  shoidd  be  invoked.  The 
prevailing  opinion  was  voiced  by  a  prominent  citizen,  a 
trustee  of  a  church,  who  voted  against  allowing  the  use  of 
the  church  for  a  lecture  for  the  benefit  of  the  expedition, 


Ventures  and  Adventures  255 

when  he  said  that  he  "did  not  want  to  do  anything  to 
encourage  that  old  man  to  go  out  on  the  Plains  to  die." 
Notwithstanding  this  sentiment,  through  Mr.  Himes'  efforts 
nearly  $200  was  contributed. 

March  10,  at  7 :00  a.  m.,  embarked  at  Portland  on  the 
steamer  Bailey  Gatzert  for  The  Dalles,  which  place  was 
reached  at  night,  but  enlivened  by  a  warai  reception  from 
the  citizens  awaiting  my  arrival,  who  conducted  us  to  a 
camping  place  that  had  been  selected. 

Upon  this  steamer  one  can  enjoy  all  the  luxuries  of 
civilized  life,  a  continuous  trip  now  being  made  through 
the  Government  locks  at  the  Cascades.  The  tables  are 
supplied  with  all  the  delicacies  the  season  affords,  with 
clean  linen  for  the  beds,  and  obsequious  attendants  to 
supply  the  wants  of  travelers. 

"What  changes  time  has  wrought,"  I  exclaimed.  "Can 
it  be  the  same  Columbia  River  which  I  traversed  fifty-four 
years  ago?  Yes,  there  are  the  mighty  mountains,  the  won- 
derful Avaterfalls,  the  sunken  forests,  each  attesting  the 
identity  of  the  spot,  but  what  about  the  conditions?  The 
answer  can  be  found  in  the  chapter  elsewhere  in  this  work, 
"Floating  Down  the  River,"  illustrating  the  mighty 
changes  of  fifty-six  years,  when  as  an  emigrant  I  passed 
through  this  gap  of  the  Cascades  in  a  flatboat,  on  the 
waters  of  the  great  river. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE  DALLES,  OREGON. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"The  Dalles,  Oregon,  Camp  No.  16,  March  10. — Arrived 
last  night  all  in  a  muss,  with  load  out  of  the  wagon,  but 
the  mate  had  his  men  put  the  bed  on,  and  a  number  of 
the  willing  boys  helped  to  tumble  all  loose  articles  into 
the  wagon  while  Goebel  arranged  them,  leaving  the  boxes 
for  a  second  load.     Drove  nearly  three-quarters  of  a  mile 


256  A   Hi  sY  Life 

to  a  cami)iiig  gronnd  near  the  i)ark,  selected  hy  the  citizens: 
surprised  to  find  tlie  streets  iniiddy.  Cattle  impatient  and 
walked  vei-y  fast,  necessitating  my  ti-am])infr  thi-ongh  the 
mud  at  their  heads.  Made  second  load  -vvhiie  Goebel  put 
11])  the  tciil.  and  went  to  bed  at  10:00  o'clock,  which  was 
as  soon  as  things  were  arranged  for  the  night.  No  supper 
or  even  tea,  as  we  did  not  build  a  fire.  It  was  clear  last 
night,  but  raining  this  moiiiing.  which  turned  to  sleet  and 
snow  at  9:00  o'clock. 

"]\rarch  n. — Heavy  wind  last  night  that  threatened  to 
bring  cold  weather;  ice  formed  in  the  camp  half  an  inch 
thick;  damper  of  stove  out  of  order,  which,  with  the  wind, 
drove  the  smoke  out  of  the  stove  and  filled  the  tent  full 
of  smoke,  making  life  miserable.  In  consequence  of  the 
weather,  the  dedication  ceremonies  were  postponed." 

Prior  to  leaving  home  T  had  written  to  the  ladies  of  the 
landmark  committing  that  u])on  my  arrival  at  The  Dalles 
I  woidd  be  i)leased  to  have  their  co-operation  to  secure 
funds  to  erect  a  monument  in  their  city.  What  should 
they  do  but  put  their  heads  together  and  pi'ovide  one 
already  inscribed  and  in  place  and  notify  me  that  I  had 
been  selected  to  deliver  the  dedicatory  address,  and  that 
it  was  expected  the  whole  city  would  turn  out  to  witness 
the  ceremonies.  But,  alas,  the  fierce  cold  wind  spoiled  all 
their  well-laid  plans,  for  the  dedication  had  to  be  ])ost- 
poned.  Finally,  upon  slioi't  notice,  the  stone  was  duly 
dedicated  on  the  12th  of  ^larch,  with  a  few  hundred  people 
in  attendance  with  their  wraps  and  ovei-coats. 

Before  leaving  Seattle  I  had  the  oxen  shod,  for  wiiich 
I  was  charged  the  unmerciful  price  of  $15,  but  they  did 
such  a  poor  jol)  that  by  the  time  I  arrived  at  The  Dalles 
all  the  shoes  l)ut  one  were  off  the  Dave  ox,  and  several  lost 
off  Twist,  and  the  remainder  loose,  and  so  I  was  compelled 
to  have  the  whole  of  the  woi-k  done  over  again  at  The 
Dalles. 

This  time  the  work  was  well  done,  all  the  shoes  but  one 
staying  on  for  a  distance  of  600  miles,  when  we  threw  the 
Dave  ox  to  replace  the  lost  shoe,  there  being  no  stocks  at 


Vrnti'res  and  Adventures 


257 


hand.  The  charge  at  The  Dalles  was  $10,  thus  making  quite 
an  inroad  upon  the  scant  funds  for  the  expedition.  I  felt 
compelled  to  have  them  again  shod  at  Kemmerer,  Wyoming, 
848  miles  out  from  Tlie  Dalles,  but  soon  lost  several  shoes, 
and  finally  at  Pacific  Springs  had  the  missing  shoes  re- 
placed by  inexperienced  hands,  who  did  a  good  job,  though, 
for  the  shoes  stayed  on  until  well  worn. 

OUT  FROM  THE  DALLES. 

At  3:30  Y>.  m.  on  March  14  I  drove  out  from  The  Dalles. 
I  have  always  felt  that  here  was  the  real  starting  point,  as 
from  here  there  could  be  no  more  shipping,  but  all  driving. 
By  rail,  it  is  1,734  miles  from  The  Dalles  to  Omaha,  where 
our  work  on  the  old  Trail  ends.  By  wagon  road  the  dis- 
tance is  greater,  but  not  much,  probably  1,800  miles.  The 
load  was  heavy  as  well  as  the  roads.  With  a  team  un- 
trained to  the  road,  and  one  ox  unbroken,  and  no  experi- 
enced ox  driver,  and  the  grades  heavy,  small  wonder  if  a 
feeling  of  depression  crept  over  me.  On  some  long  hills 
we  could  move  up  but  one  or  two  lengths  of  the  wagon 
and  team  at  a  time,  and  on  level  roads,  witli  the  least  warm 
sun,  the  unbroken  ox  would  poke  out  his  tongue.  He  was 
like  the  young  sprig  just  out  of  school,  with  muscles  soft 
and  breath  short. 


The  First  Boulder  Marked. 


18—1958 


258  A  Busy  Life 

CAMP  27— MARCH  27. 

As  wc  drew  into  camp  a  young  nuiii  with  ciglit  horses 
ai)i)roa('lie(l  the  creek.  "What  do  you  do  with  so  many 
hoi'ses,  ladT'  I  ([uei-ied,  as  the  drove  passed  witli  their 
heads  down  and  traces  dangiing  around  their  l)odies. 
"Why,  I  have  been  harrowing  in  wheat  today,  up  on  the 
hill;  it's  pretty  tough  work  at  that."  "No,  you  see  our 
horses  are  not  large,'"  responding  to  au  inquiry  about  eiglit 
horses  to  one  harrow,  "and  besides  you  see  tliey  are  not 
ir.  very  good  condition ;  the  fact  is,  our  feed  has  i-un  slioi-t 
and  we  have  put  them  on  short  rations,"  and  the  horses 
looked  it,  with  their  heads  dowm  as  they  came  away  from 
the  creek.  "Why,  we  usually  harrow  35  acres  for  a  full 
day's  work,  sometimes;  but  40  acres  is  called  a  big  day's 
run.''  "Yes,  1  can  plow  seven  acres  a.  day,  wliieh  is  a 
fair  day's  work — too  much,  perhaps,  with  this  team,  but 
with  a  good,  strong  team  one  can  easily  turn  over  eight 
acres."  "Let  me  see,"  he  continued,  in  response  to  fur- 
ther inquiries;  "let  me  see.  I  think  with  what  winter 
wheat  we  have  in  there'll  be  over  400  acres;  we  expect 
a  yield  of  20  l)ushels  an  acre,  but  some  have  got  as  high 
at  30."  "Why,  we  got  a  dollar  last  year  right  hei-e."  this 
in  response  to  a  (piestion  as  to  price. 

A  nearby  neighbor  who  had  600  acres  in  wheat  said 
they  expected  a  good  yield  this  year  as  there  "had  been 
14  inches  rainfall  already  for  the  season,  wliile  tli(^  average 
was  but  10." 

"AVell.  of  coui'se  it's  a  pretty  good  business  with  wheat 
at  a  dollar,"  which  w'as  in  evidence  at  the  next  camj)  wlu're 
a  new  fifteen  hundred  dollar  automobile  was  snugly  lioused 
ready  for  use.  This  man  had  1,200  acres  of  land.  "Why, 
yes,  of  course  w^e  have  neighbors;  Neighbor  R —  lives  but 
two  miles  off  and  then  there's  Neighbor  B —  not  three." 

When  reminded  that  when  I  was  a  boy  anyone  living 
three  mih's  away  was  considered  out  of  the  neighborhood  : 
"Yes,  bul  tilings  is  diffVi-ent  in  Oregon,"  which  1  i-eadily 
adniilted.  ha\ing  just   passed  a  sclio(»lhoiise  with  but  seven 


Vi;N'rri;i^s  and  Ai)Vi:nti'rks  259 

sch()l;if.s.  and  I'cinciiibci'ed  the  six  Imiidrcd  or  eif^lit  hun- 
dred Mild  twelve  liuiidi'cd  acre  fai'ins  we  had  {)assed. 

J  was  also  reininded  of  iny  boyhood  days  wlien  father 
spoke  approvingly  if  1  plowed  two  acres  a  day,  and  to 
harrow  ten  acres  was  the  ])iggest  kind  of  a  day's  work.  I 
queried  in  my  mind  which  was  the  best  condition  of  things, 
the  big  farms  and  farming  a  business  proposition,  or  the 
small  farms  with  the  home  surroundings.  I  had  been  told 
that  "that  man  over  there  has  been  there  twenty-six  years 
and  don't  raise  fruit  enough  for  his  own  use."  Money- 
making  was  his  object  and  he  liad  no  time  to  "fool  with 
frait  trees  or  garden  truck."  Then  I  was  reminded  of 
the  time  we  cut  the  wheat  with  a  sickle,  or  maybe  with  the 
hand  cradle,  and  thresh  it  out  with  horses  on  the  barn 
floor.  Sometimes  we  had  a  fanning  mill,  and  how  it  would 
make  my  arms  ache  to  turn  the  crank;  then  at  other  times 
if  a  stiff  breeze  sprinig  up  the  wheat  and  chaff  would  be 
shaken  loosely  from  an  elevation  and  the  chaff  would  be 
blown  away,  or  if  all  other  means  failed  two  stout  arms  at 
either  end  of  a  blanket  or  a  sheet  would  move  it  as  a  fan 
to  "clean"  the  wheat. 

Now  we  not  only  see  the  gang  plows  with  eight  horses 
plowing  eight  acres  a  day  and  hear  that  the  gasoline  trac- 
tion engine  is  doing  even  better  tlian  that,  and  not  only 
see  the  harrow  cover  40  acres  a  day  instead  of  10,  but 
see  the  great  combination  harvestei-  garner  thirty  acres  a 
day  and  instead  of  the  flail,  thresh  it  as  well  and  sack  it 
ready  for  the  mill  or  warehouse — no  shocking,  no  stacking 
01'  housing — all  in  one  operation,  preparing  the  grain  ready 
for  market.  What  a  change  this,  in  three-(|uarters  of  a 
century,  the  si)aii  of  one  life. 

As  we  traveled  eastward  and  the  Blue  Mountains  came 
in  distant  view  and  half  a  day's  brisk  travel  bi*ought  us 
within  close  proximity  of  wheat  fields  well  up  to  approach- 
ing the  snow  line,  the  country  became  less  broken,  the  soil 
seemed  better,  the  rainfall,  we  were  told,  being  better,  the 
yield  of  wheat  greater  and  fifty  bushels  is  reported  as  not 
an  unusual  crop.    We  began  to  see  the  red  barns,  the  com- 


260  A  Busy  Liim-; 

l'()rtal>lf  t';i  nil  house  (wide  apart  lliouoh^  for  the  farms  are 
large)  and  ti'ii  liorses  to  the  team  the  rule  aud  ot'tentime 
tliree  teams  iu  a  field  each  turiiiii<i'  thr^'e  furrows  iustead 
of  one  as  in  th(^  olden  times.  Finally  as  we  a])proaehed 
Ihe  AValla  Walla  Valley  the  scene  changed,  the  large  farms 
disappeared,  the  small  holdings  became  the  rule  and  or- 
chards were  to  be  seen  everywhere  as  we  pass  that  his- 
toric i)oint.  the  site  of  the  tragedy  of  Whitman,  and  are 
soon  in  cam})  in  the  very  heart  of  the  thriving  city  of 
AValla  Walla. 

PENDLETON,   OREGON. 

A  fourteen  days'  drive  to  Pendleton,  Oregon,  138 J 
miles,  without  meeting  any  success  in  interesting  people 
to  help  in  the  work,  was  not  inspiring.  On  this  stretch, 
with  two  assistants,  the  Trail  was  marked  with  boulders 
and  cedar  posts  at  intersections  with  traveled  roads,  river 
crossings  and  noted  camping  places,  but  no  center  of  j)opu- 
lation  was  encountered  until  1  reached  the  town  of  Pendle- 
ton. Here  the  Commercial  Club  took  hold  with  a  will, 
[U'ovided  the  funds  to  inscribe  a  stone  monument,  which 
was  installed,  and  on  the  31st  of  March  dedicated  it,  with 
over  a  thousand  people  present.  Here  one  assistant  was 
discharged,  the  camera  and  photo  supplies  stored,  a  small 
kodak  purchased,  and  the  load  otherwise  lightened  by  ship- 
ping tent,  stove,  stereopticon  and  other  et  eeteras  over  the 
Blue  Mountains  to  La  Grande. 

On  that  evening  I  drove  out  six  miles  to  the  Indian 
school  in  a  tierce  wind  and  rain  storm  that  set  in  soon  after 
the  dedication  ceremonies,  on  my  way  over  the  Blue  Moun- 
tains. 

A  night  in  the  wagon  without  tire  in  cold  weather  aud 
with  scant  supper  Avas  enough  to  cool  one's  ardor;  but  zero 
was  reached  when  the  next  morning  information  was  given 
out  that  eighteen  inches  of  snow  had  fallen  on  the  moun- 
tains. However,  with  the  morning  sun  came  a  warm  re- 
ception from  the  authoi-ities  of  the  school,  a  room  with  a 
stove  in  it  allotted  us,  and  a  conunand  to  help  ourselves 
to  fuel. 


Vkntukks  and  Advkntures  261 


Till';   BLUE   MOUNTAINS. 


liefoi-L'  this  last  fall  oi'  snow  some  had  said  it  would  be 
impossible  foi-  me  to  eross,  while  others  said  it  eould  be 
done,  but  that  it  would  be  a  "hard  job."  So  1  thought 
best  to  go  myself,  investigate  on  the  spot,  and  "not  run 
my  neck  into  a  halter"  (whatever  that  may  mean)  for 
lack  of  knowing  at  first  hands.  So  that  evening  Meacham 
was  reached  by  rail,  and  I  was  dumped  off  in  the  snow 
near  michiight,  no  visible  light  in  hotel  nor  track  beaten 
to  it,  and  again  the  ardor  was  cold — cool,  cooler,  cold. 

]\Iorning  confirmed  the  story;  twenty  inches  of  snow 
had  fallen,  but  was  settling  fast.  A  sturdy  mountaineer, 
and  one  of  long  experience  and  an  owner  of  a  team,  in 
response  to  my  query  if  he  could  help  me  across  wdth  his 
team  said,  "Yes,  it's  possible  to  make  it,  but  I  warn  you 
it's  a  hard  job,"  and  so  the  arrangement  was  at  once 
made  that  the  second  morning  after  our  meeting  his  team 
w^ould  leave  Meacham  on  the  way  to  meet  me. 

"But  what  about  a  monument,  Mr.  Burns?"  I  said. 
"Meacham  is  a  historic  ]ilace  with  Lee's*  encamjiment  in 
sight. ' ' 

"We  have  no  money,"  came  the  quick  reply,  "but  plenty 
of  brawn.  Send  us  a  stone  and  I'll  warrant  you  the 
foundation  will  be  l)uilt  and  the  monument  put  in  place." 

A  belated  train  gave  opportunity  to  return  at  once  to 
Pendleton.  An  appeal  for  aid  to  provide  an  inscribed  stone 
for  Meacham  was  responded  to  with  alacrity,  the  stone 
ordered,  and  a  sound  night's  sleep  followed — ardor  rising. 

MEACHAM,    OREGON. 

I  quote  from  my  journal:  "Camp  No.  31,  April  4 
(1906). — We  are  now^  on  the  snow  line  of  the  Blue  Moun- 
tains (8:00  p.m.),  and  am  Avriting  this  by  our  first  real 
out-of-door   campfire,   under   the   spreading   boughs   of   a 

*Jason  Lee,  the  first  missionary  to  the  Oregon  country  with  four  assistants,  camped 
here  in  September,  1S34,  at,  as  he  supposed,  the  summit  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  and  ever 
after  the  little  opening  in  the  forests  of  the  mountains  has  been  known  as  Lee's  encamp- 
ment. 


262  A  JJij.sy  IjibM-: 

friendly  pine  tree.  "We  estimate  have  driven  twelve  miles: 
stai-ted  from  the  school  at  7:00  (a.  m.)  ;  the  fii-st  three  or 
four  miles  ovei-  a  beautiful  fai'iiiiui>-  country,  and  then 
began  climbing  the  foothills,  up,  up,  up,  four  miles,  and 
soon  up  again,  reaching  first  snow  at  3:00  o'clock.  The 
long  up-hill  pull  fagged  the  ox  Dave,  so  we  had  to  wait 
on  him,  although  I  had  given  him  an  inch  the  advantage 
on  the  yoke." 

True  to  promise,  the  team  met  us,  but  not  till  we  had 
reached  the  snow,  axle  deep,  and  had  the  shovel  in  use 
to  clear  the  way.  But  by  3:00  p.  m.  we  were  safely  en- 
camped at  Meacham,  with  the  cheering  news  that  the  monu- 
ment had  arrived  and  could  be  dedicated  the  next  day, 
and  so  the  snowfall  had  proven  a  blessing  in  disguise,  as 
otherwise  there  would  not  have  been  a  mouuiueut  provided 
for  Meacham.    Ardor  warming. 

But  the  summit  had  not  been  reached.  The  worst  tug 
lay  ahead  of  us.  Casting  all  thoughts  of  this  from  mind, 
all  hands  turned  to  the  monument,  which  by  11:00  o'clock 
was  in  place,  the  team  hitched  up,  standing  near  it,  and 
leady  for  the  start  as  soon  as  the  order  was  given.  Every- 
body was  out,  the  little  school  in  a  body,  a  neat  s])eech  was 
uiade  by  the  orator  from  Peudleton,  and  the  two  teams  to 
the  one  wagon  moved  on  to  the  front  to  battle  witli  the 
snow.  And  it  was  a  battle.  AVe  read  of  the  "last  straw 
that  broke  the  camel's  back."  I  said,  after  Ave  had  gotten 
thi'ough,  "I  wonder  if  another  flake  of  snow  would  have 
balked  us?"  But  no  one  answered,  and  I  took  it  for 
granted  they  didn'l  know.  Aud  so  we  went  into  camp 
on  the  hither  side  of  the  siunmil.     Ardor  uariucr. 

1;.\    (lUANPK,    ORKC.ON. 

Tlu>  sunshine  tluU  was  let  into  our  hearts  at  La  (irande 
(Oregon)  was  refreshing.  "Yes,  we  will  have  a  monu- 
ment," the  response  came,  ajid  they  did,  too,  and  dedicated 
it  while  I  tarried.    Ardor  n(U'iiial. 


V?:NTrREs  AM)  Advkn'I'hrks  263 

i-aud's  canyon. 

1  again  quote  Iroia  inv  journal : 

"Camp  No.  34,  April  11.— We  left  La  Urandc  at  7  ::^0 
(a.  m.)  and  brought  an  inscribed  stone  with  us  to  set  up 
at  an  intersection  near  the  mouth  of  Ladd's  C^anyon,  eight 
miles  out  of  La  Grande.  At  1 :00  o'clock  the  school  nearby 
came  in  a  body  and  se^'eral  residents  to  see  and  hear.  The 
children  sang  "Colnnibia,  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean,"  after 
which  I  talked  to  them  for  a  few  moments.  The  exercises 
closed  Avith  all  singing  "America."  We  photographed  the 
scene.  Each  child  brought  a  stone  and  cast  it  upon  the 
pile  surrounding  the  base  of  the  monument." 

CAMP  No.  34. 

At  this  camp,  on  Ai)ril  12,  the  Twist  ox  kicked  me  and 
almost  totally  disabled  my  right  leg  for  a  month,  and 
probalily  has  resulted  in  permanent  injury.  Much  had  to 
be  left  undone  that  otherwise  would  have  been  accom- 
plished, but  I  am  rejoiced  that  it  was  no  worse  and  thank- 
ful to  the  kind  friends  that  worked  so  ardently  to  accom- 
plish what  has  been  done,  an  account  of  which  follows. 

BAKER  CITY.   OREGON. 

The  citizens  of  Baker  City  lent  a  willing  ear  to  the  sug- 
gestion to  erect  a  monument  on  the  high  school  ground  to 
perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  old  Trail  and  to  honor  the 
pioneers  who  made  it,  although  the  ti-ail  is  off  to  the  north 
six  miles.  A  fine  granite  shaft  was  provided  and  dedicated 
while  I  tarried,  and  an  inscribed  stone  marker  set  in  the 
Trail.  Eight  hundred  school  children  contributed  an  ag- 
gregate of  $60  to  place  a  children's  bronze  tablet  on  this 
shaft.  The  money  for  this  work  was  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  school  directors.  Two  thousand  people  participated 
in  the  ceremony  of  dedication  on  the  19th.  and  all  were 
proud  of  the  work.  A  wave  of  genuine  enthusiasm  pi-e- 
vailed,  and  many  of  the  audience  lingered  long  after  the 
exercises  were  over. 


si  "^ 


®  P3 

Pi 
P. 

t3 


Ventures  and  Adventures  265 

A  photoyrai)li  ol'  the  Old  Tiiucj-  was  taken  ai't(;i-  the 
ceremonies  of  the  dedication,  and  many  a  moistened  e^'e 
attested  the  interest  taken  in  tlie  impromptu  r-ennion. 

OLD   MOUNT   PLEASANT,   OREGON. 

Sixteen  miles  out  from  Baker  City  at  Straw  Ranch,  set 
an  inscribed  stone  at  an  important  intersection.  At  Old 
Mount  Pleasant  I  met  the  owner  of  the  place  where  I 
wanted  to  plant  the  stone  (always,  though,  in  the  public 
highway)  and  asked  him  to  contribute,  but  he  refused  and 
treated  me  with  scant  courtesy.  Thirteen  young  men  and 
one  lady,  hearing  of  the  occurrence,  contributed  the  cost 
of  the  stone  and  $6  extra.  The  tent  was  filled  with  people 
until  9  :00  0  'clock  at  night.  The  next  day  while  planting 
the  stone,  five  young  lads  came  along,  stripped  off  their 
coats,  and  labored  with  earnestness  until  the  work  was 
finished.  I  note  these  incidents  to  show  the  interest  taken 
by  the  people  at  large,  of  all  classes. 

DURKEE,  OREGON. 

The  people  of  Durkee  had  ''heard  what  was  going  on 
down  the  line,"  and  said  they  were  ready  to  provide  the 
funds  for  a  monument.  One  was  ordered  from  the  granite 
works  at  Baker  City,  and  in  due  time  was  dedicated,  but 
unfortunately  I  have  no  photogi*aph  of  it.  The  stone  was 
planted  in  the  old  Trail  on  the  principal  street  of  the 
village. 

HUNTINGTON. 

Huntington  came  next  in  the  track  where  the  Trail  ran, 
and  here  a  granite  monument  was  erected  and  dedicated 
while  I  tarried,  for  which  the  citizens  willingly  contributed. 
Here  seventy-six  school  children  contributed  their  dimes 
and  half-dimes,  aggregating  over  $4. 

After  the  experience  in  Baker  City,  Oregon,  where,  as 
already  related,  800  children  contributed,  and  at  Boise, 
Idaho,  to  be  related  later,  over  a  thousand  laid  down  their 
offerings,  I  am  convinced  that  this  feature  of  the  work  is 


266  A  Busy  Life 

destined  to  give  great  results.  It  is  not  the  financial  aid 
I  refer  to,  but  the  effect  i1  has  upon  chiUlreii's  tiiinds  to  set 
them  to  thinking  of  this  subject  ot*  {)ati-iotic  sentiment  that 
will  endure  iu  after  life.  Each  chihl  in  Baker  City,  or  in 
Huntington,  or  Boise,  or  other  places  wiiere  these  contri- 
butions have  been  made,  feel  they  lun-e  a  part  ovvnersiiip 
in  the  shaft  they  helped  to  pay  for,  and  a  tender  care  for 
it,  that  will  grow  stronger  as  the  child  grows  older. 

VAIiE,    OREGON. 

It  was  not  a  (juestion  at  Vale,  Oregon,  as  to  whether  they 
would  erect  a  monument,  but  as  to  what  kind,  that  is, 
what  kind  of  stone.  Local  pride  prevailed,  and  a  shaft 
was  erected  out  of  local  material,  which  was  not  so  suit- 
able as  granite,  but  the  spirit  of  the  people  was  manifested. 
Exactly  seventy  children  contributed  to  the  fund  for  erect 
ing  this  monument  (which  was  placed  on  the  court  house 
grounds)  and  participated  in  the  exercises  of  dedication 
on  April  30. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

OLD   PORT  BOISE. 

Erecting  a  monument  in  Vale,  as  related  in  the  last  chap- 
ter, finished  the  work  in  Oregon,  as  we  soon  crossed  Snake 
River  just  below  the  mouth  of  Boise,  and  were  landed  on 
the  historic  spot  of  Old  Fort  Boise,  established  by  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company  in  September,  1834.  This  fort  was 
established  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  the  success  of 
the  American  venture  at  Fort  Hall,  a  post  established 
earlier  in  1884  by  Nathaniel  J.  Wyethe.  Wyethe's  venture 
proved  disastrous,  and  the  foi-t  soon  passed  into  his  rival's 
hands,  the  Hudson  Bay  C'ompany,  thus  for  the  time  ))eing 
securing  undisputed  British  rule  for  the  whole  of  that 
vast  region  later  known  as  tlie  Inland  Empire,  then,  the 
Oregon  Country. 


Ventures  and  Ai)vi:nt[tres  267 

S(»inc  relics  oi'  tlie  old  fort  at  Boise  were  secured,  ar- 
]-aiigeiiiei)ts  made  for  planting  a  double  inscribed  stone  to 
mai-k  the  site  of  the  fort  and  the  Trail,  and  afterwards, 
thi'ough  the  liberality  of  the  citizens  of  Boise  City,  a  stone 
was  ordered  and  doubtless  l)efore  this  ])ut  in  place. 

PARMA,    IDAHO. 

The  first  town  encountered  in  Idaho  was  Parma,  where 
the  contributions  warranted  shipping  an  inscribed  stone 
from  Boise  City,  which  was  done,  and  is  doubtless  ere  this 
in  place,  but  no  photograph  of  it  is  at  hand. 

BOISE,    IDAHO. 

At  Boise,  the  ca|)ital  city  of  Idaho,  there  were  nearly 
1,200  contributions  to  the  monument  fund  by  the  pupils  of 
the  public  schools,  each  child  signing  his  or  her  name  to 
the  roll,  showing  the  school  and  gi-ade  to  which  the  child 
belonged.  These  rolls  with  printed  headlines  Avere  col- 
lected, bound  together,  and  deposited  with  the  archives  of 
the  Pioneer  Society  historical  collection  for  future  refer- 
ence and  as  a  part  of  the  history  of  the  monument.  Each 
child  was  given  a  signed  certificate  showing  the  amount  of 
the  contribution.  The  monument  stands  on  the  state  house 
grounds  and  is  inscribed  as  the  children's  offering  to  the 
memory  of  the  pioneers.  Over  three  thousand  people  at- 
tended the  dedication  service. 

The  citizens  of  Boise  also  paid  for  the  stone  planted  on 
the  site  of  the  old  fort  and  also  for  one  planted  on  the 
Trail,  near  the  South  Boise  school  buildings,  all  of  which 
were  native  granite  shafts,  of  which  there  is  a  large  supply 
in  the  (juarries  of  Idaho  very  suitable  for  such  work. 

TWIX    FALLS,    IDAHO. 

At  Twin  Falls,  587  miles  out  fi-om  The  Dalles,  funds 
were  contributed  to  place  an  inscrilied  stone  in  the  track 
of  the  old  Trail  a  mile  from  the  city,  and  a  granite  shaft 
was  accordingly  ordered. 


268  A  Busy  Life 

AMERICAN    PALLS,    IDAHO. 

Upou  my  ari'ival  at  American  Falls,  Idaho,  649  miles 
out  from  The  Dalles,  a  combination  was  quickly  formed 
to  erect  a  cement  shaft  twelve  feet  high  to  plant  in  the 
track  of  the  Trail,  and  a  park  was  to  be  dedicated  where 
the  monument  is  to  stand  and  a  section  of  the  old  Trail 
preserved. 

POCATELLO,    IDAHO. 

The  Ladies'  Study  Club  has  inidertaken  the  work  of 
erecting  a  monument  at  Pocatello,  Idaho,  676  miles  out 
from  The  Dalles.  I  made  twenty-three  addresses  to  the 
school  children  on  behalf  of  the  work  before  leaving,  and 
have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  the  undertaking  has  been 
vigorously  prosecuted,  and  that  a  fine  monument  has  been 
placed  on  the  high  school  grounds. 

SODA  SPRINGS,  IDAHO. 

At  Soda  Springs,  739  miles  from  The  Dalles,  the  next 
j)lace  where  an  attempt  was  made  to  erect  a  monument, 
a  committee  of  citizens  undertook  the  work,  collected  the 
funds  to  erect  a  monument  by  one  of  those  beautiful  bub- 
bling soda  springs,  which  is  in  the  park  and  on  the  Trail. 

MONTPELIER,   IDAHO. 

Monti)elier  jjroved  no  exception  to  what  apparently  had 
I)ecome  the  rule.  A  committee  of  three  was  appointed  by 
the  Commercial  Club  to  take  charge  of  the  work  of  erect- 
ing a  monument,  a  contribution  from  members  and  citizens 
solicited,  nearly  $30  collected  and  paid  into  the  bank,  and 
arrangements  for  increasing  tlie  contriliutions  and  com- 
pleting the  monument  were  made  before  the  team  ar- 
I'ived.  A  pleasant  feature  of  the  occasion  was  the  calling 
of  a  meeting  of  the  "Woman's  Club  at  the  Hunter  Hotel, 
where  I  was  stopping,  and  a  resolution  passed  to  thor- 
oughly canvass  the  town  for  aid  in  tlic  work,  and  to  in- 
terest the  school  ehildrcn. 


Ventitres  and  Advkntiires  269 

THE    MAD    BUIjL. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"June  7. — Up  at  4:30;  started  at  5:30;  arrived  at  Monl- 
pelier  11 :00  a.  m.  *  *  *  A  dangerous  and  exciting 
incident  occurred  this  forenoon  when  a  vicious  bull  at- 
tacked the  team,  first  from  one  side  and  then  the  other, 
getting  in  between  the  oxen  and  causing  them  to  nearly 
upset  the  wagon.  I  was  finally  thrown  down  in  the  melee, 
but  escaped  unharmed,"  and  it  was  a  narrow  escape  from 
being  iim  over  both  by  team  and  wagon. 

the  wounded  bufpai.o. 

This  incident  reminded  nie  of  a  "scrape"  one  of  our 
neighboring  trains  got  into  on  the  Platte  iji  1852  with  a 
wounded  buffalo.  The  train  liad  encountered  a  large  herd 
feeding  and  traveling  at  right  angles  to  tlie  road.  The 
older  heads  of  the  party,  fearing  a  stampede  of  their  teams, 
had  given  orders  not  to  molest  the  buffaloes,  but  to  give 
their  whole  attention  to  the  care  of  the  teams.  But  one 
impulsive  young  fellow  would  not  be  restrained,  and  fired 
into  the  herd  and  wounded  a  large  bull.  Either  in  anger 
or  from  confusion,  the  mad  biill  charged  upon  a  wagon 
filled  with  women  and  children  and  drawn  by  a  team  of 
mules.  He  became  entangled  in  the  harness  and  on  the 
tongue  betAveen  the  mules.  An  eye-witness  described  the 
scene  as  "exciting  for  a  while."  It  would  be  natural  for 
the  women  to  scream,  the  children  to  cry,  and  the  men  to 
halloa,  but  the  practical  question  was  how  to  dispatch  the 
bull  without  shooting  the  mules  as  well.  What,  with 
multiplicity  of  counsel,  the  independent  action  of  everyone, 
eacli  having  a  plan  of  his  own,  there  seemed  certain  to 
bo  some  fatalities  fi'om  the  gun-shots  of  the  large  crowd  of 
trainmen  who  liad  forgotten  their  own  teams  and  rushed 
to  the  wagon  in  trouble.  As  in  tliis  incident  of  my  own, 
just  related,  nothing  was  harmed,  but  when  it  was  over 
all  agreed  it  was  past  understanding  how  it  came  al)Out 
there  was  no  loss  of  life  or  bodily  injury. 


VivN'i'iniKs  AND  Advknttires  271 

COKEVILLK,    WYOMING. 

Cokeville,  800^  miles  out  on  the  Trail  from  The  Dalles, 
aucl  near  the  junction  of  the  Sublette  cut-off  with  the 
more  southerly  trail,  resolved  to  have  a  monument,  and 
arrangcements  were  completed  for  erecting  one  of  stone 
from  a  nearby  (luarry  that  will  bear  witness  for  many 
centuries. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE    ROCKY    MOUNTAINS. 

From  Cokeville  to  Pacific  Springs,  just  west  of  the  sum- 
mit of  the  Rocky  Mountains  at  South  Pass,  by  the  road 
and  trail  we  traveled,  is  158  miles.  Ninety  miles  of  this 
stretch  is  away  from  the  sound  of  the  locomotive,  the  click 
of  the  telegraph  or  the  hello  girl.  It  is  a  great  extension 
of  that  grand  mountain  range,  the  Rockies,  from  six  to 
seven  thousand  feet  above  sea  level,  with  scant  vegetable 
growth,  and  almost  a  solitude  as  to  habitation,  save  as  here 
and  there  a  sheep-herder  or  his  typical  wagon  might  be 
discovered.  The  bold  coyote,  the  simple  antelope,  and 
the  cunning  sage  hen  still  hold  their  sway  as  they  did 
sixty-three  years  before,  when  I  first  traversed  the  country. 
The  old  Trail  is  there  in  all  its  grandeur. 

' '  Why  mark  that  Trail ! "  I  exclaim.  Miles  and  miles  of 
it  worn  so  deep  that  centuries  of  storm  will  not  efface  it ; 
generations  may  pass  and  the  origin  of  the  Trail  become 
a  legend,  but  the  marks  will  be  there  to  perplex  the  won- 
dering eyes  of  those  who  people  the  continent  centuries 
hence,  aye,  a  hundred  centuries,  I  am  ready  to  say.  We 
wonder  to  see  it  worn  fifty  feet  wide  and  three  feet  deep, 
and  hasten  to  take  snap  shots  at  it  with  kodak  and  camera. 
But  wliat  about  it  later,  after  we  are  over  the  crest  of  the 
mountain?  We  see  it  a  hundred  feet  wide  and  fifteen  feet 
deep,  where  the  tramp  of  thousands  upon  thousands  of 
men  and  women,  and  the  hoofs  of  millions  of  animals  and 
the  wheels  of  untold  numbers  of  vehicles  have  loosened 


272  A  Busy  Life 

Ihe  soil  and  the  fierce  winds  have  carried  it  away,  and 
finally  we  find  ruts  a  foot  deep  worn  into  the  solid  rock. 

■'What  a  mighty  movement,  this,  over  the  Old  Oregon 
Trail ! ' '  we  exclaim  time  and  again,  each  time  with  greater 
wonderment  at  the  marvels  yet  to  be  seen,  and  hear  the 
stories  of  the  few  yet  left  of  those  who  suffered  on  this 
great  highway. 

Xor  do  we  escape  from  this  solitude  of  the  western  slope 
till  we  have  traveled  150  miles  east  from  the  summit,  when 
the  welcome  black  smoke  of  the  locomotive  is  seen  in  the 
distance,  at  Caspar,  a  stretch  of  250  miles  of  primitive 
life  of  ''ye  olden  times"  of  fifty  years  ago. 

Nature's  freaks  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  are  l)eyond  my 
power  of  description.  We  catch  sight  of  one  a  few  miles 
west  of  the  Little  Sandy,  without  name.  We  venture  to 
call  it  Tortoise  Rock,  from  the  resemblance  to  that  reptile, 
with  head  erect  and  extended.  Farther  on,  as  night  ap- 
1) roaches,  we  are  in  the  presence  of  animals  unused  to  the 
sight  of  man.     I  quote  from  my  journal : 

PACIFIC  SPRINGS. 

"Pacific  Springs,  Wyoming,  Camp  No.  79,  June  20,  1906. 
— Odometei-  958  (miles  from  The  Dalles,  Oregon).  Arrived 
at  6:00  p.  m.,  and  camped  near  Halter's  store  and  the 
P.  0. ;  ice  formed  in  camp  during  the  night. 

"Camp  No.  79,  June  21. — Remained  in  camp  all  day  and 
got  down  to  solid  w-ork  on  my  new  book,  the  title  of  w'hieh 
is  not  yet  developed  in  mj^  mind. 

"Camp  No.  79,  June  22. — Remained  in  camp  all  day  at 
Pacific  Springs  and  searched  for  a  suitable  stone  for  a 
monument  to  be  placed  on  the  summit.  AftcM-  almost  de- 
spairing, came  to  exactly  what  was  wanted,  and,  although 
alone  on  the  mountain  side,  exclaimed,  'That  is  what  I 
want;  that's  it.'  So  a  little  later,  after  procuring  help, 
we  turned  it  over  to  find  the  both  sides  flat;  with  26  inches 
face  and  15  inches  thick  at  one  end  and  14  inches  wide  and 
12  inches  thick  at  the  other,  one  of  Nature's  own  liandi- 
work,  as  if  made  for  this  very  ])uri)Ose,  to  stand  on  tlie 


Ventures  and  Adventures 


273 


top  of  tlie  niountaiiis  for  the  centuries  to  come  to  per- 
petuate the  memory  of  the  generations  that  have  passed. 
I  think  it  is  granite  formation,  but  is  mixed  with  quartz 
at  large  end  and  very  liard.  Replaced  three  shoes  on  the 
Twist  ox  and  one  on  Dave  immediately  after  dinner,  and 
hitched  the  oxen  to  Mr.  Halter's  wagon,  and  with  the  help 


Summit  Monument  in  South  Pass,  Rocky  MountainB. 


of  four  men  loaded  the  stone,  after  having  dragged  it  on 
the  ground  and  rocks  a  hundred  yards  or  so  down  the 
mountain  side;  estimated  weight,  1,000  pounds. 

"Camp  No.  79,  June  23. — Remained  here  in  camp  while 
inscribing  the  monument.      There  being  no   stone   cutter 
here,  the  clerk  of  the  store  formed  the  letters  on  stiflf  past- 
19—1958 


274  A   lirsv   T.ikk 

hoai'ds  and  then  cill  tlieiii  out  to  inakr  a  iiapcr  stciicil. 
al'ter  wliicli  llie  sliape  of  tlic  letters  was  transt'crred  to 
the  stone  l>\'  ci-ayon  marks.  'J'he  letters  were  then  cut  ont 
with  the  cold  chisel  deej)  enoug'li  to  make  a  [x-rmanent  in- 
sei'iption.  The  stoue  is  so  very  hard  that  it  reciuired  steady 
work  all  day  to  cut  the  twenty  letters  and  figures,  'The 
Old  Oregon  Trail,  1843-47.' 

"Camp  80,  June  24.— Odometer  970^.  At  3:00  o'clock 
this  aftei'noon  erected  the  monument  described  on  the  sum- 
nut  of  the  south  pass  at  a  point  on  the  Trail  described  by 
John  Linn,  civil  engineer,  at  42.21  north  latitude,  108.53 
west  longitude,  bearing  N.  47,  E.  240  feet  from  the  |  corner 
between  sections  4  and  5,  T.  27  N.,  R.  101  W.  of  the  6th 
P.  M.  Elevation  as  determined  by  aneroid  reading  June 
24,  1906,  is  7,450. 

"Mr.  Linn  informs  me  the  survey  for  an  irrigation  ditch 
to  take  the  waters  of  the  Sweetwater  River  from  the  east 
slope  of  the  range,  through  the  south  pass,  to  the  west  side, 
runs  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the  monument. 

"We  drove  out  of  Pacific  Springs  at  12:30,  stopped  at 
the  summit  to  dedicate  the  monument,  and  at  3 :40  left 
the  summit  and  drove  twelve  miles  to  this  point,  called 
Oregon  Slough,  and  put  up  the  tent  after  dark." 

The  reader  may  think  of  the  South  Pass  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  as  a  precipitous  defile  through  narrow  canyons 
and  deep  gorges,  but  nothing  is  farther  from  the  fact  than 
such  imagined  conditions.  One  can  drive  through  this 
pass  for  several  miles  without  realizing  he  has  passed  the 
dividing  line  between  the  waters  of  the  Pacific  on  the  one 
side  and  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  on  the  other,  w'hile  traveling 
over  a  broad,  open,  undulating  prairie  the  approach  is  by 
easy  grades  and  the  descent  (going  east)  scarcely  notice- 
able. 

f/ertainly,  if  my  memory  is  W'Ortli  anything,  in  1852 
some  of  our  i)arty  left  the  road  but  a  short  distance  to  find 
banks  of  drifted  snow  in  low  places  in  July,  but  none  was 
in  sight  on  the  level  of  the  road  as  we  came  along  in  June 
of    1906.      This    was    one    of    the    hmdmarks    that     h)oked 


Vkntitres  and  Ai)Vi';NTriRKS  275 

familiar,  as  all  who  were  toiling  west  looked  upon  this  si)ot 
as  the  turning  point  in  their  journ(\y,  and  that  they  had 
left  the  worst  of  the  trip  behind  them,  poor,  innocent  souls 
as  we  were,  not  realizing  that  our  mountain  climbing  in 
the  way  of  rough  roads  oidy  began  a  long  way  out  west  of 
the  summit  of  the  Rockies. 

SWEETWATER. 

The  sight  of  Sweetwater  River,  twenty  miles  out  from 
the  ])ass,  revived  many  pleasant  memories  and  some  that 
were  sad.  I  could  remember  the  sjmrkling,  clear  water, 
the  gvvvn  skirt  of  undergrowth  along  the  banks  and  the 
restful  camps  as  we  trudged  along  up  the  streams  so  many 
years  ago.  And  now  I  see  the  same  channel,  the  same  hills, 
and  apparently  the  same  waters  swiftly  passing;  but  where 
are  the  campfires;  where  the  herd  of  gaunt  cattle;  where 
the  sound  of  the  din  of  bells;  the  hallowing  for  lost  chil- 
dren ;  the  cursing  of  irate  ox  drivers ;  the  pleading  for 
n)ercy  from  some  humane  dame  for  the  half-famished  dumb 
brute ;  the  harsh  sounds  from  some  violin  in  camp ;  the 
merry  shouts  of  children ;  or  the  little  groups  off  on  the 
hillside  to  bury  the  dead  ?  All  gone.  An  oppressive  silence 
prevailed  as  we  drove  down  to  the  river  and  pitched  our 
camp  within  a  few  feet  of  the  bank  where  we  could  hear 
the  rippling  waters  passing  and  see  the  fish  leaping  in 
the  eddies.  We  had  our  choice  of  a  camping  place  just 
by  the  skirt  of  refreshing  green  brush  with  an  opening  to 
give  full  view  of  the  river.  Not  so  in  '52  with  hundreds 
of  camps  ahead  of  you.  One  must  take  what  he  could  get, 
and  that  in  many  cases  would  be  far  back  from  the  water 
and  removed  from  other  conveniences. 

The  sight  and  smell  of  the  carrion  so  common  in  camping 
places  in  our  first  trip  was  gone ;  no  bleached  bones  even 
showed  where  the  exhausted  dumb  brute  had  died ;  the 
graves  of  the  dead  emigrants  had  all  been  leveled  by  the 
hoofs  of  stock  and  the  lapse  of  time.  ''What  a  mighty 
change!"  I  exclaimed.  We  had  been  following  the  old 
Trail  for  nearly  150  miles  on  the  west  slope  of  the  raoun- 


27b  A  Bi'sY  LiPK 

tains  with  scarce  a  vestige  of  civilization.  Out  of  sight 
and  hearing  of  railroads,  telegraphs,  or  telephones  and 
nearly  a  hundred  miles  without  a  postoffiee.  It  is  a  mis- 
nomer to  call  it  a  "slope."  It  is  nearly  as  high  an  altitude 
a  hundred  miles  west  of  the  summit  as  the  summit  itself. 
The  country  remains  as  it  was  fifty-four  years  before.  The 
Trail  is  there  to  be  seen  miles  and  miles  ahead,  worn  bare 
and  deep,  with  but  one  narrow  track  where  there  used  to 
be  a  dozen,  and  with  the  beaten  path  so  solid  that  vegeta- 
tion has  not  yet  recovered  from  the  scourge  of  passing 
hoofs  and  tires  of  wagons  years  ago. 

As  in  1852  when  the  summit  was  i)assed,  T  felt  that  my 
task  was  much  more  than  half  done,  though  the  distance 
was  scarcely  compassed.  I  felt  we  were  entitled  to  a  rest 
even  though  it  was  a  solitude,  and  so  our  preparations 
were  made  for  two  days'  rest  if  not  recreation.  The  two 
days  passed  and  we  saw  but  three  persons.  We  traveled 
a  week  on  this  stretch,  to  encounter  five  persons  only,  and 
to  see  but  one  M^agon,  but  our  guide  to  point  the  way  was 
at  hand  all  the  time — a  pioneer  way  a  hundred  feet  wide 
and  in  places  ten  feet  deep,  we  could  not  mistake.  Our 
way  from  this  Cainp  81  on  Sweetwater  led  us  from  the 
river  and  over  hills  for  fifty  miles  before  we  were  back 
to  the  river  again.  Not  so  my  Trail  of  '52,  for  then  we 
followed  the  river  closer  and  crossed  it  several  times,  while 
part  of  the  people  Asent  over  the  hills  and  made  the  second 
trail.  It  was  on  tliis  last  stretch  we  set  our  1,000-mile  post 
as  we  reached  the  summit  of  a  very  long  hill,  eigliteen  mik's 
west  of  where  we  again  encountered  the  river,  saw  a  tele- 
graph line,  and  a  road  where  more  than  one  wagon  a  week 
passed  as  like  that  we  had  been  following  so  long. 

SPIJT   ROCK. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  85,'  June  80.— Odometer  1,044.  About  ten 
o'clock  encountered  a  large  innnl)er  of  big  flies  that  ran 
the  cattle  nearly  wild.  We  fought  tlicm  oft'  as  best  we 
could.     I  stood  on  the  wagon  tongue  for  miles  so  1  could 


Ventures  and  Adventures  "-77 

reach  them  with  the  whip-stock.  The  cattle  were  so 
excited,  we  did  not  stop  at  noon,  finding-  water  on  the 
way,  bnt  drove  on  through  by  two-thirty  and  camped  at  a 
farmhouse,  the  Split  Rock  postoffice,  the  first  we  had  found 
since  leaving  Pacific  Springs,  the  other  side  of  the  summit 
of  South  Pass  and  eighty -five  miles  distant." 

"Split  Rock"  postoffice  derives  its  name  from  a  rift  in 
the  mountain  a  thousand  feet  or  more  high,  as  though  a 
part  of  the  range  had  been  bodily  moved  a  rod  or  so,  leav- 
ing this  perpendicular  chasm  through  the  range,  which 
was  narrow. 

THE    devil's    gate. 

The  Devil's  Gate  and  Independence  Rock,  a  few  miles 
distant,  are  probably  the  two  best  known  landmarks  on 
the  Trail — the  one  for  its  grotesque  and  striking  scenic 
effect.  Here,  as  at  Split  Rock,  the  mountain  seems  as  if 
it  had  been  split  apart,  leaving  an  opening  a  few  rods 
wide,  through  which  the  Sweetw^ater  River  pours  a  verita- 
ble torrent.  The  river  first  approaches  to  within  a  few 
hundred  feet  of  the  gap,  and  then  suddenly  curves  away 
from  it,  and  after  winding  though  the  valley  for  a  half  a 
mile  or  so,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  it  takes  a  straight 
shoot  and  makes  the  pluge  through  the  canyon.  Those 
who  have  had  the  impression  they  drove  their  teams 
through  this  gap  are  mistaken,  for  it's  a  feat  no  mortal 
man  has  done  or  can  do,  any  more  than  tliey  could  drive  up 
the  falls  of  the  Niagara. 

This  year,  on  my  1906  trip,  I  did  clamber  through  on  the 
left  bank,  over  boulders  head  high,  under  shelving  rocks 
where  the  sparrows'  nests  were  in  full  possession,  and  ate 
some  ripe  gooseberries  from  the  bushes  growing  on  the 
border  of  the  river,  and  plucked  some  beautiful  wild  roses 
— this  on  the  second  day  of  July,  A.  D.  1906.  T  wonder 
why  those  wild  roses  grow  there  where  nobody  will  see 
them?  Why  these  sparrows'  nests?  Why  did  this  river 
go  through  this  gorge  instead  of  breaking  the  barrier  a 
little  to  the  south  where  the  easy  road  runs?     These  ques- 


Devil's  G-ate,  S'weet\vater. 


Vkntijuks  and  Advkntuues  279 

tious  run  tlirough  my  iiiiiid,  and  why  J  know  not.  The 
gap  through  the  mountains  hxiked  familiar  as  I  spied  it 
from  the  distance,  hul  Ihe  I'oadbed  to  the  right  I  had  foi*- 
gotten.  i  longed  to  see  this  place,  for  here,  somewhere 
under  tlie  sands,  lies  all  that  was  mortal  of  a  hroth(^r,  Clark 
Meeker,  drowned  in  the  Sweetwater  in  1854  while  attempt- 
ing to  cross  the  Plains ;  would  I  be  able  to  see  and  identify 
the  grave?    No. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  85,  July  2. — Odometer  1,059.  This  camp  is 
at  Tom  Sun's  place,  the  Sun  post  office,  Wyoming,  and  is 
in  Sec.  35,  T.  29  N.  R.  97,  6  P.  M.,  and  it  is  one-half  mile 
to  the  upper  end  of  the  Devil's  Gate,  through  which  the 
Sweetwater  runs.  The  passage  is  not  more  than  100 
feet  wide  and  is  1,300  feet  through  with  walls  483  feet 
at  highest  point.  The  altitude  is  5860.27,  according  to 
the  United  States  geological  survey  marks.  It  is  one 
of  nature's  marvels,  this  rift  in  the  mountain  to  let 
the  waters  of  the  Sweetwater  through.  Mr.  Tom  Sun,  or 
Thompson,  has  lived  here  thirty  odd  years  and  says  there 
are  numerous  gi-aves  of  the  dead  pioneers,  but  all  have 
been  leveled  by  the  tramp  of  stock,  225,000  head  of  cattle 
alone  having  passed  over  the  Trail  in  1882  and  in  some 
single  years  over  a  half  million  sheep.  But  the  Trail  is 
deserted  now,  and  scarcely  five  wagons  pass  in  a  week,  with 
part  of  tlie  roadbed  grown  up  in  grass.  That  mighty  move- 
ment— tide  shall  we  call  it — of  suffering  humanity  first 
going  west,  accompanied  and  afterwards  followed  by  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  stock,  with  the  mightier  ebb  of 
millions  upon  millions  of  returning  cattle  and  sheep  going 
east,  has  all  ceased,  and  now  the  road  is  a  solitude  save  a 
few  straggling  wagons,  or  here  and  there  a  local  flock 
driven  to  pasture.  No  wonder  that  we  looked  in  vain  for 
the  graves  of  the  dead  with  this  great  throng  passing  and 
repassing. 

A  pleasant  little  anecdote  is  told  by  his  neighbors  of  tlie 
odd  name  of  "Tom  Sun,"  borne  by  that  sturdy  yeoman 
(a  Swede,  I  think),  and  of  whose  fame  for  fair  dealing  and 


280  A  Bttsy  Life 

liberality  i  e-oultl  hear  upon  all  sides.  The  story  runs  that 
when  lie  first  went  to  the  bank,  then  and  now  sixty  miles 
away,  to  deposit,  the  eashier  asked  his  name  and  received 
the  reply  Thompson,  emphasizing  the  last  syllable  pro- 
nounced with  so  mneli  ('mi)liasis,  that  it  was  written  Tom 
Sun,  and  from  necessity  a  elieck  had  to  be  so  signed,  thus 
making  that  t'oim  of  spelling  generally  known,  and  finally 
it  was  adopted  as  the  name  of  the  postoffice. 


CHAPTER    XLVI. 

INDEPENDENCE  ROCK. 

''Camp  No.  87,  July  3,  1906. — Odometer  1,065,  Independ- 
ence Rock.  We  drove  over  to  the  'Rock,'  from  the  'Devil's 
Gate,'  a  distance  of  six  miles,  and  camped  at  10:00  o'clock 
for  the  day. ' ' 

Not  being  conversant  with  the  work  done  by  others  to 
perpetuate  their  names  on  this  famous  boulder  that  covers 
al)out  thirty  acres,  we  groped  our  way  among  the  inscrip- 
tions to  find  some  of  them  nearly  obliterated  and  many 
legible  only  in  part,  showing  how  impotent  the  eft'orts  of 
individuals  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  their  own  names, 
and,  may  I  add,  how  foolish  it  is,  in  most  cases,  forgetting, 
as  these  individuals  have,  that  it  is  actions,  not  words,  even 
if  engraved  upon  stone,  that  carry  one's  name  down  to 
future  generations.  We  walked  all  the  way  around  the 
stone,  which  was  nearly  a  mile  around,  of  irregular  shape, 
and  over  a  hundi-ed  feet  high,  the  walls  being  so  precipi- 
tous as  to  prevent  ascending  to  the  top  exeei)t  in  two  van- 
tage points.  Unfortunately,  we  missed  the  Fremont  in- 
scription made  in  1842. 

Of  this  inscription  Fremont  writes  in  his  journal: 
"August  23  (1842) .  Yesterday  evening  we  reached  our  en- 
(•am])ment  at  Rock  Independence,  where  I  took  some  astro- 
nomical ol)servations.  Here,  not  unmindful  of  the  custom 
of  early  travelers  and  explorers  in  our  country,  I  engraved 


Ventures  and  Adventures  281 

on  this  rock  of  the  Far  West  a  symbol  of  the  Christian 
faith.  Among  the  thickly  inscribed  names,  I  made  on  the 
hard  granite  the  impression  of  a  large  cross,  which  I 
covered  with  a  black  preparation  of  India  rubber,  well 
calculated  to  resist  the  influences  of  the  wind  and  rain. 
It  stands  amidst  the  names  of  many  who  have  long  since 
found  their  way  to  the  grave  and  for  whom  the  huge  rock 
is  a  giant  gravestone. 

"One  George  Weymouth  was  sent  out  to  IMaine  by  the 
Earl  of  Southampton,  Lord  Arundel,  and  others;  and  in 
the  narrative  of  their  discoveries  he  says:  'The  next  day 
we  ascended  in  our  pinnace  that  part  of  the  river  which 
lies  more  to  the  westward,  carrying  with  us  a  cross — a  thing 
never  omitted  by  any  Christian  traveler — which  we  erected 
at  the  ultimate  end  of  our  route. '  This  was  in  the  year 
1605 ;  and  in  1842  I  obeyed  the  feeling  of  early  travelers, 
and  I  left  the  impression  of  the  cross  deeply  engraved  on 
the  vast  rock  1,000  miles  beyond  the  Mississippi,  to  which 
discoverers  have  given  the  national  name  of  Rock  Inde- 
pendence. ' ' 

The  reader  will  note  that  Fremont  writes  in  1842  of  the 
name,  "to  which  discoverers  have  given  the  national  name 
of  Independence  Rock, ' '  showing  that  the  name  of  the  rock 
long  antedated  his  visit,  as  he  had  inscribed  the  cross 
"amidst  the  names  of  many." 

Of  recent  years  the  traveled  road  leads  to  the  left  of 
the  rock,  going  eastward,  instead  of  to  the  right  and  nearer 
the  left  bank  of  the  Sweetwater  as  in  early  years;  and  so 
I  selected  a  spot  on  the  westward  sloping  face  of  the  stone 
for  the  inscription,  "Old  Oregon  Trail,  1843-57,"  near 
the  present  traveled  road,  where  people  can  see  it,  as  shown 
in  the  illustration,  and  inscribed  it  with  as  deep  cut  letters 
as  we  could  make  with  a  dulled  cold  chisel,  and  painted 
the  sunken  letters  with  the  best  sign  writer's  paint  in  oil. 
On  this  expedition,  where  possible,  I  have  in  like  manner 
inscribed  a  number  of  boulders,  with  paint  only,  which  it 
is  to  be  hoped,  before  the  life  of  the  paint  has  gone  out, 
may  find  loving  hands  to  inscribe  deep  into  the  stone ;  but 


282  A  Busy  Life 

here  on  this  huji'e  l)ouldei"  I   hope  the  inscription  may  last 
for  centuries,  though  not  as  (h'cply  cut  as   I   wouhl  have 

liked  had  \vc  hul   liad  suitable  tools. 

PIS II   CKKEK. 

Eknen  miles  out  from  Independence  Roci\  we  nooned  on 
the  hank  of  a  small  sti'cam.  well  name(l  Fish  Creek,  for  it 
literally  swarmed  with  fish  of  suitable  size  for  the  i)an, 
but  they  would  not  bite,  and  we  liad  no  a|)i)liances  for 
catchiuju:  with  a  net,  and  so  consoled  ourselves  with  the 
exclamation  that  they  were  suckers  only,  antl  we  didn't 
care,  but  I  came  away  wdth  the  feeling  that  maybe  we  were 
"suckers"  ourselves  for  having  w^et  a  blanket  in  an  attempt 
to  seine  them,  getting  into  the  water  over  boot  top  deep, 
and  working  all  the  noon  hour  instead  of  resting  like  an 
elderly  person  shoidd,  and  as  the  oxen  did. 

NORTH    PLATTE    RIVER. 

Our  next  camp  brought  us  to  the  North  Platte  River, 
fifteen  miles  above  the  tow-n  of  Casper. 

T  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  89,  North  Platte  River,  July  5,  1906.— 
Odouieter  1,104,  distance  traveled  twentv-two  miles. 

"We  followed  the  old  Trail  till  nearly  4:00  p.  m.,  and 
then  canu>  to  the  forks  of  the  traveled  road,  with  the  Trail 
untraveled  by  anyone  going  straight  ahead  between  the 
two  roads.  I  took  the  righ-hand  road,  fearing  the  other 
led  off  north,  and  anyw^ay  the  one  taken  would  lead  us  to 
the  North  Platte  River ;  and  on  the  old  Trail  there  would 
be  no  water,  as  we  w^^-e  inforuui'd,  until  we  reached  Casper. 
We  did  not  arrive  at  the  Platte  River  until  after  dark, 
and  then  found  there  was  no  feed;  got  some  musty  alfalfa 
haj^  the  cattle  would  not  eat;  had  a  little  cracked  corn  we 
had  hauled  nearly  300  miles  from  Kemmerer.  and  had  fed 
them  the  last  of  it  in  the  afternoon;  went  to  bed  in  the 
wagon,  first  watering  the  cattle,  after  tlark,  from  the  North 
Platte,  which  T  had  not  seen  foi-  over  fifty-four  years,  as 
I  had  passed  fift<'en  miles  below  here  the  last  of -luiie.  1852. 


Vrntfres  and  Adventures  283 

"Several  times  (luring  tlie  afternoon  there  were  threaten- 
ing clouds,  accompanied  by  distant  lightning,  and  at  one 
time  a  black  cloud  in  tiie  center,  with  rapid  moving  clouds 
around  it,  made  me  think  of  a  tornado,  but  finally  dis- 
a])peared  without  striking  us.    Heavy  wind  at  night. 

"This  aftei*noon  as  we  were  driving,  with  both  in  the 
wagon,  William  heard  tlie  rattles  of  a  snake,  and  jumped 
out  of  the  wagon,  and  thoughtlessly  called  the  dog.  I 
stopped  the  wagon  and  called  the  dog  away  from  the  rep- 
tile until  it  was  killed.  When  stretched  out  it  measured 
four  feet  eight  inches,  and  had  eight  rattles. 

CASPER,    WYOMING. 

I  quote  from  my  journal: 

"Camp  Xo.  90,  odometer  1,117^,  Casper,  Wyoming, 
July  6. — At  the  noon  hour,  while  eating  dinner,  seven 
miles  out.  we  heard  the  whistle  of  the  locomotive,  some- 
thing we  had  not  seen  nor  heard  for  nearly  300  miles.  As 
soon  as  lunch  was  over  I  left  the  wagon  and  walked  in 
ahead  of  the  team  to  select  camping  ground,  secure  feed, 
and  get  the  mail.  Received  twenty  letters,  several  from 
home. 

"Fortunately  a  si)ecial  meeting  of  the  commercial  club 
held  this  evening,  and  I  laid  the  matter  of  building  a  monu- 
ment before  them,  with  the  usual  result;  they  resolved  to 
build  one ;  opened  the  subsci'iption  at  once,  and  appointed 
a  committee  to  carry  tlie  woi'k  foi'ward.  I  am  assured  by 
several  i)rominent  citizens  that  a  .^500  monument  will  be 
erected,  as  the  city  council  will  join  with  the  club  to  pro- 
vide for  a  tVmntain  as  well,  and  place  it  on  the  most  public 
street  crossing  in  the  city.''* 

Glen  Rock  was  the  next  i)laee  in  our  itinerary,  which 
we  readied  at  dark,  after  having  driven  twenty-five  and 
one-fourth  miles.  This  is  the  longest  drive  we  have  made 
on  the  whole  trip. 

*A  monument  25  feet  high  has  since  been  erected,  that  post  $1,500.00. 


As  an  Old  Scout. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  285 

glen  rock. 

Gk'ii  KoL'k  is  a  small  village,  l)ut  tlie  ladies  met  and 
resolved  the^^  "would  have  as  nice  a  monument  as  Cas- 
per," even  if  it  did  not  cost  as  much,  because  theie  was 
a  stone  quarry  out  but  six  miles  from  town.  One  en- 
thusiastic lady  said:  "We  will  inscribe  it  ourselves,  if  no 
stone-cutter  can  be  had."  "  'Where  there's  a  will  there's 
a  way,'  as  the  old  adage  runs,"  I  remarked  as  we  left  the 
nice  little  burg  and  said  good-bye  to  the  energetic  ladies 
in  it.  God  bless  the  women,  anyhow;  I  don't  see  how  the 
world  could  get  along  without  them;  and  anyhow  I  don't 
see  what  life  would  have  been  without  that  little  faithful 
companion  that  came  over  this  very  same  ground  with  me 
fifty-four  years  ago  and  still  lives  to  rejoice  for  the  many, 
many  blessings  vouchsafed  to  us  and  our  descendants. 

DOUGLAS,    WYOMING. 

At  Douglas,  Wyoming,  l,177i  miles  out  from  The  Dalles, 
the  people  at  first  seemed  reluctant  to  assume  the  respon- 
sibility of  erecting  a  monument,  everybody  being  "too 
busy"  to  give  up  any  time  to  it,  but  were  willing  to  con- 
tribute. After  a  siiort  canvass,  $52  was  contributed,  a 
local  committee  appointed,  and  an  organized  effort  to  erect 
a  monujnent  was  well  in  hand  before  we  drove  out  of  the 
town. 

I  here  witnessed  one  of  those  heavy  downpours  like  some 
I  remember  in  '52,  where,  as  in  this  case,  the  water  came 
down  in  veritable  sheets,  and  in  an  incredibly  short  time 
turned  all  the  slopes  into  roaring  torrents  and  level  places 
into  lakes ;  the  water  ran  six  inches  deep  in  the  streets  in 
this  case,  on  a  very  heavy  grade  the  whole  width  of  the 
street. 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

' '  Camp  No.  95,  July  12.— Odometer  1,192.  We  are  camped 
under  a  group  of  balm  trees  in  the  Platte  bottom  near  the 
bridge  at  the  farm  of  a  company,  Dr.  J.  M.  Wilson  in 
charge,  where  we  found  a  good  vegetable  garden  and  were 


28G  A  liusY  LiFK 

])id(len  1o  licl])  ourselves,  which  T  did.  witli  a  lilx'ral  hand, 
to  a  t'casi  ot"  young  onions,  radislics,  liccts  and  h^ttuce 
cnou^li  for  scxcral  days." 

P  U  Y  ALLUP-T  ACOM  A-SEATTLE. 

This  refreshing  shade  and  these  spreading  halms  car- 
ried me  back  to  the  little  cabin  home  in  the  Pnyalhip  Val- 
ley, 1,500  mik^s  away,  where  we  had  for  so  long  a  period 
enjoyed  the  cool  sliades  of  the  native  forests,  enlivened 
Ity  tlie  charms  of  songsters  at  peep  of  day,  with  the  dew 
dripping  off  the  leaves  like  as  if  a  shower  had  faUeu  over 
the  forest.  Having  now  passed  the  1,200-mile  mark  out 
from  The  Dalles,  with  scarcely  the  vestige  of  timber  life 
except  in  the  snows  of  tlie  Blue  JVlountains,  one  can  not 
wonder  tlial  my  mind  should  run  back  to  not  only  the  little 
cabin  homc^  as  well  as  to  the  more  pretentit)ns  i-esidence 
I'.earby;  to  the  time  when  our  liomestead  of  160  acres, 
granted  to  us  by  the  (jovernment,  was  a  dense  forest — 
when  the  little  clearing  was  so  isolated  we  could  see  naught 
else  but  walls  of  timber  around  us — timber  that  recpiired 
the  labor  of  one  man  twelve  years  to  remove  from  a  quarter- 
section  of  land — of  the  time  when  trails  oidy  i-eached  the 
spot;  wlu'ii,  as  the  poet  wrote: 

"Oxen  answered   well    foi-  team, 
Though  now  th('\"d  he  too  slow — "': 

\\  hell  the  scnii-montlily  mail  was  eagerly  looked  for;  wIumi 
I  lie  'i'ribunc  would  be  re-i-ead  again  and  again  before  the 
new  supply  came;  when  the  moi-ning  hours  before  l)reak- 
fast  Avere  our  only  school  hours  foi-  the  children;  when 
the  home-made  shoe  pegs  and  the  home-shaped  shoe  lasts 
answered  for  making  and  mending  the  shoes,  and  the 
home-saved  bristle  foi-  the  waxen  end;  when  the  Indians, 
if  not  our  nearest  neighbors,  I  had  liked  to  have  said  our 
best;  when  the  meat  in  the  barrel  and  the  tloui'  in  the  box, 
in  spite  of  the  most  strenuous  etforts.  would  at  times  run 
low;  when  the  time  for  laboi-  would  he  much  nearer  eight- 
e(>n  than  eitiiit  houi's  a  da  v. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  287 

"SIIPPP^R. "  Supper  is  ready;  and  when  repeated  in 
more  imperative  tones,  T  at  last  aM'ake  to  inhale  the 
fragrant  flavors  of  that  most  delicious  beverage,  caiii]) 
eoffee,  from  the  Mocha  and  Java  mixed  grain  that  liad 
"just  come  to  a  boil,"  and  to  I'ealize  there  was  something 
else  in  the  air  when  the  bill  of  fai'e  was  scanned. 

Menu. 

Calf's  liver,  fried  crisp,  with  bacon. 

Coffee,  with  cream,  and  a  lump  of  butter  added. 

Lettuce,  witii  vinegar  and  sugar. 

Young  onions. 

Boiled  young  carrots. 

Radishes. 

Beets,  covci'cd   with   vinegar. 

Corumeal   mush,  cooked  foi'ty  minutes,  in  reserve  and  for 

a  breakfast  fry. 

These  "delicacies  of  the  season,"  coupled  with  the — 
what  shall  I  call  it? — delicious  appetite  incident  to  a  stren- 
uous day's  travel  and  a  late  sui)per  hour,  without  a  diinun" 
l)adding  in  tiie  stomach,  aroused  me  to  a  sense  of  the 
necessities  of  the  inner  man,  and  to  that  keen  relish  inci- 
dent to  prolonged  exertion  and  to  open-air  life,  and  justice 
was  meted  out  to  the  second  meal  of  the  day  following  a 
5:00  o'clock  breakfast. 

I  awoke  also  to  the  fact  that  I  was  on  the  spot  near 
where  I  camped  fifty-four  years  ago  in  this  same  Platte 
Valley,  then  apparently  almost  a  desert.  Now  what  do  I 
see?  As  we  drew  into  camp,  two  mowing  machines  cut- 
ting the  alfalfa;  two  cr  more  teams  raking  the  cured  hay 
to  the  rick,  and  a  huge  fork  or  rake  at  intei'vals  climbing 
the  steep  incline  of  fenders  to  above  the  top  of  the  rick, 
and  depositing  its  equivalent  to  a  wagon-load  at  a  time. 
To  my  right,  as  we  drove  through  the  gate,  the  large  garden 
looked  temptingly  near,  as  did  some  rows  of  small  fruit. 
Hay  ricks  dotted  the  field,  and  outhouses,  barns  and  dwel- 
lings at  the  home.  We  are  in  the  midst  of  plenty  and  the 
guests,  we  may  almost  say,  of  friends,  instead  of  feeling 


288  A  Busy  Life 

we  must  deposit  the  trusted  rifle  in  convenient  place  while 
we  eat.  Yes,  we  will  exclaim  again,  "What  wondrous 
changes  time  has  wrought ! ' ' 

But  my  mind  will  go  hack  to  the  little  ivy-covered  cabin 
now  so  carefully  preserved  in  Pioneer  Park  in  the  little 
pretentious  city  of  Puyallup,  that  was  once  our  homestead, 
and  so  long  our  home,  and  where  the  residence  still  stands 
nearby.  The  timber  is  all  gone  and  in  its  place  brick 
blocks  and  pleasant,  modest  homes  are  found,  where  the 
roots  and  stumps  once  occupied  the  ground  now  smiling 
fruit  gardens  adorn  the  landscape  and  fill  the  purses  of 
1,400  fruit  growers,  and  sujjply  the  wants  of  6,000  people. 
Instead  of  the  slow  trudging  ox  team,  driven  to  the  market 
town  sixteen  miles  distant,  with  a  day  in  camp  on  the  yvay, 
\  see  fifty-four  railroad  trains  a  day  thundering  through 
the  town.  I  see  electric  lines  with  crowded  cars  carrying 
passengers  to  tide  water  and  to  the  rising  city  of  Tacoma, 
but  seven  miles  distant.  I  see  a  quarter  of  a  million  people 
within  a  radius  of  thirty  miles,  where  solitude  reigned  su- 
preme fifty-four  years  ago,  save  the  song  of  the  Indian, 
the  tliump  of  his  canoe  paddle,  or  the  din  of  his  gambling 
revels.  When  I  go  down  to  the  Sound  I  see  miles  of 
shipping  docks  where  before  the  waters  rippled  over  a 
pebbly  beach  filled  with  shell-fish.  I  look  farther,  and  see 
hundreds  of  steamers  plying  thither  and  yon  on  the  great 
inland  sea,  where  fifty-four  years  ago  the  Indian's  canoe 
only  noiselessly  skinnned  the  water.  T  see  hundreds  of 
sail  vessels  that  whiten  every  sea  of  the  globe,  being  either 
towed  here  and  there  or  at  dock,  receiving  or  discharging 
cargo,  where  before  scarce  a  dozen  had  in  a  year  ventured 
the  voyage.  At  the  docks  in  Seattle  I  see  the  28,000-ton 
steamers  receiving  their  monster  cargoes  for  the  Orient, 
and  am  r-eminded  that  these  monsters  can  enter  any  of 
the  numerous  harbors  of  Puget  Sound  and  are  supple- 
mented by  a  great  array  of  other  steam  tonn;ige  contend- 
ing foi-  that  vast  across-sea  trade,  and  again  exclaim  with 
greater  wonderment  than  ever,  "What  wondi'ous  changes 
time   luis   wrought!"      if    I    look  tlirough   the  (•li.-iiiucls  of 


Ventures  and  Adventures  289 

Puget  Sound,  I  yet  see  the  forty  islands  or  more;  its  six- 
teen hundred  miles  of  shore  line;  its  schools  of  fish,  and 
at  intervals  the  seal;  its  myriads  of  sea  gulls;  the  hawking 
crow;  the  clam  beds;  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide — ^still 
there.  But  many  happy  homes  dot  the  shore  line  where 
the  dense  forests  stood ;  the  wild  fruits  have  given  way  to 
the  cultivated ;  train-loads  of  f rait  go  out  to  distant  mar- 
kets; and  what  we  once  looked  upon  as  barren  land  now 
gives  plenteous  crops;  and  we  again  exclaim,  "What  won- 
drous changes  time  has  wrought,"  or  shall  we  not  say, 
' '  What  wondrous  changes  the  hand  of  man  has  wrought ! ' ' 
But  I  am  admonislied  I  have  wandered  and  nuTst  needs 
go  back  to  our  narrative  of  "Out  on  the  Trail." 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

PORT    LARAMIE,    WYOMINCx! 

I  quote  from  my  journal : 

"Camp  No.  99,  July  16,  Fort  Laramie,  odometer  1,247. — 
Prom  the  time  we  crossed  the  Missouri  in  May,  1852,  until 
we  arrived  opposite  this  place  on  the  north  bank  of  the 
Platte,  no  place  or  name  was  so  universally  in  the  minds 
of  the  emigrants  as  old  Fort  Laramie ;  here,  we  eagerly 
looked  for  letters  that  never  came — maybe  our  friends  and 
relatives  had  not  written ;  maybe  they  had  and  the  letter 
lost  or  dumped  somewhere  in  'The  States';  but  now  all 
hope  vanished,  regarding  the  prospect  of  hearing  from 
home  and  we  nuist  patiently  wait  until  the  long  journey 
has  ended  and  a  missive  might  reach  us  by  the  Isthmus 
or  maybe  by  a  sail  vessel  around  Cape  Horn.  Now,  as  T 
write,  I  know  my  letter  written  in  the  morning  will  at 
night  be  on  the  banks  of  the  great  river,  and  so  for  each 
day  of  the  year.  One  never  ceases  to  exclaim,  'What 
changes  time  has  wrought ! '  What  wondrous  changes  in 
these  fifty-four  years,  since  1  first  set  foot  on  the  banks  of 
the  Platte  and  looked  longingly  across  the  river  for  the 
letter  that  never  came. 

20—1958 


Vkntures  and  Ai)VI':nt[irks  291 

"T)iis  morning  at  4:80  the  alarm  sounded,  but  in  spite 
of  oiii-  streiuious  efforts  the  start  was  delayed  till  6:15. 
( 'onditions  Mei'e  such  as  to  give  us  a  hot  day,  but  the 
cattle  would  not  travel  without  eating  the  grass  in  the 
road,  having  for  some  cause  not  liked  the  grass  they  were 
on  during  the  night;  and  so,  after  driving  a  couple  of 
miles  and  finding  splendid  feed,  we  turned  them  out  to 
fill  up,  which  they  speedily  did,  and  thereafter  became 
laggards,  too  lazy  for  anything.  So  after  all  we  did  not 
arrive  here  till  4 :00,  and  with  dinner  at  six,  it  is  not 
strange  that  we  had  good  appetites. 

"Locally,  it  is  difficidt  to  get  accurate  information.  All 
agree  there  is  no  vestige  of  the  old  Traders'  Camp  or  the 
first  United  States  fort  left,  but  disagree  as  to  its  location. 
The  new  fort  (not  a  fort,  but  an  encampment)  covers  a 
space  of  thirty  or  forty  acres  with  all  sorts  of  buildings 
and  ruins,  from  the  old  barracks,  three  hundred  feet  long, 
in  good  preservation  and  occupied  by  the  present  owner, 
Joseph  Wild,  as  a  store,  postofifice,  saloon,  hotel  and  family 
residence,  to  the  old  guai'd  house  with  its  grim  iron  door 
and  twenty-inch  concrete  walls.  One  frame  building,  two 
stories,  we  are  told,  was  transported  by  ox  team  from 
Kansas  City  at  a  cost  of  $100  per  ton  freight.  There  seems 
to  be  no  plan  either  in  the  arrangement  of  the  buildings 
or  of  the  buildings  themselves.  T  noticed  one  building, 
part  stone,  part  concrete,  i)art  adobe,  and  part  burnt  brick. 
The  concrete  walls  of  one  building  measured  twenty-two 
inches  thick  and  there  is  evidence  of  the  use  of  lime  with 
a  lavish  hand,  and  I  think  all  of  them  are  alike  massive. 

"The  location  of  the  barracks  is  in  Sec.  28,  T.  26  N.,  R. 
64  AV.  of  6tli  P.  M.,  United  States  survey."" 

SCOTT  "S   BI.UPF. 

July  20th,  odometer  1,308|-  miles. — We  dr(n'e  out  from 
the  town  of  Scott's  Bluff  to  the  left  bank  of  the  North 
Platte,  less  than  a  mile  from  the  town,  to  a  point  nearly 
opposite  that  noted  landmark,  Scott's  Bluff,  on  the  right 
bank,  looming  up  near  eight  hundred  feet  above  the  river 


292  A  Busy  Life 

aiul  adjoining  green  fields,  and  pliotogi'aplied  tiie  bluffs 
and  section  of  the  river. 

Probnl)ly  all  emigrants  of  early  days  remember  Scott's 
Bluff,  wliicli  could  be  seen  for  so  long  a  distance,  and  yet 
ai)i)arentl.v  so  near  for  days  and  days,  till  it  finally  sank 
out  of  sight  as  we  passed  on,  and  new  objects  came  into 
view.  As  with  Tortoise  flock,  the  formation  is  sand  and 
clay  cemented,  yet  soft  enough  to  cut  easily,  and  is  con- 
stantly changing  in  smaller  details. 

We  certainh'  saw  Scott's  Bluff  while  near  the  junction 
of  the  two  rivers,  near  a  hundred  miles  distant,  in  that 
illusive  phenomenon,  the  mirage,  as  plainly  as  when  within 
a  few  miles  of  it. 

Speaking  of  this  deceptive  manifestation  of  one  natural 
law,  I  am  led  to  wonder  why,  on  the  trip  of  1906,  I  have 
seen  nothing  of  those  sheets  of  water  so  real  as  to  be  almost 
within  our  gras]),  yet  never  reached,  those  hills  and  valleys 
we  never  traversed,  beautiful  pictures  on  the  horizon  and 
sometimes  above,  while  traversing  the  valley  in  1852 — all 
gone,  perhaps  to  be  seen  no  more,  as  climatic  changes  come 
to  destroy  the  conditions  that  caused  them.  Perhaps  this 
may  in  part  be  caused  by  the  added  humidity  of  the  at- 
mosphere, or  it  may  be  also  in  part  because  of  the  numerous 
groves  of  timber  that  now  adorn  the  landscape.  Whatever 
the  cause,  the  fact  remains  that  in  the  year  1852  the  mirage 
was  of  connnon  occurrence  and  now,  if  seen  at  all,  is  rare. 

The  origin  of  the  name  of  Scott's  Bluff'  is  not  definitely 
known,  l)ut  as  tradition  runs  "a  trader  named  Scott,  while 
returning  to  the  States,  was  robbed  and  stripped  by  the 
Indians.  He  crawled  to  these  bluffs  aud  there  famished  and 
his  bones  were  afterwai'ds  found  and  buried/"  these  quoted 
words  having  been  written  by  a  ])assing  emigrants  on  the 
spot,  June  11,  1852. 

Another  version  of  liis  fate  is  tbat  Scott  fell  sick  anil 
was  abandoned  by  his  trayeling  companions,  and  after  hav- 
ing crawled  near  forty  miles  finallj^  died  near  the  "Bluffs" 
ever  after  bearing  his  name.    This  occurred  prior  to  1830. 


294  A   I'.nsY  TiiFi: 

THE    DKAl)    OF    THE    I'LAINS. 

I^'i'diii  the  "lUuff's"  we  drove  as  direct  as  possible  to  that 
histoiic  j4i"ive,  two  miles  out  from  the  town  and  ou  the 
railroad  i-ig'lit  of  way,  of  Mrs.  Rebecca  Winters,  who  died 
August  15,  1852,  nearly  six  weeks  after  1  had  passed  over 
the  ground. 

But  for  the  handiwork  of  some  unknown  friend  or  rel- 
ative this  grave,  like  thoiisands  and  thousands  of  others 
who  fell  by  the  wayside  in  those  strenuous  days,  would 
have  passed  out  of  sight  and  mind  and  nestled  in  solitude 
and  unknowai  for  all  ages  to  come. 

As  far  back  as  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant  ruus, 
a  half-sunken  wagon  tire  bore  this  simple  inscription, 
"Rebecca  Wintei's,  aged  50  years."  The  hoofs  of  stock 
trampled  the  sunken  grave  and  trod  it  into  dust,  but  the 
arch  of  the  tire  remained  to  defy  the  strength  of  thought- 
h'ss  hands  who  would  have  removed  it,  and  of  the 
ravages  of  time  that  seem  not  to  have  affected  it.  Finally, 
in  "the  lapse  of  time"  that  usual  non-respecter  of  persons 
— tlie  railroad  survey,  and  afterwards  the  i-ails — ^came  along 
and  would  have  run  tlie  track  over  the  lonely  grave  but 
for  the  tender  care  of  the  man  who  wielded  the  compass 
and  changed  the  line,  that  the  resting  place  of  the  pioneer 
should  not  be  disturbed,  followed  by  the  noble  impulse  of 
him  who  held  the  power  to  control  the  "soulless  corpora- 
tion," and  the  grave  was  i)i'otected  and  enclosed.  Then 
came  the  i)ress  correspondent  and  the  press  to  herald  to 
the  world  the  pathos  of  the  lone  grave,  to  in  time  reach 
the  eyes  and  touch  the  heai-ts  of  the  descendants  of  the 
dead,  who  had  almost  passed  out  of  mind  and  to  (luicken 
the  interest  in  the  memory  of  one  once  dear  to  them,  till 
in  time  there  ai'ose  a  beautiful  monument  lovingly  in- 
scribed, just  one  hundred  years  after  the  birth  of  the  in 
mate  of  the  grave. 

As  I  looked  upon  this  grave,  now  sin-rounded  by  green 
fi(4ds  and  hai)i)y  homes,  my  mind  ran  back  to  the  time  it 
was  first  occupied  in  the  desert  (as  all  believed  the  coun- 


Ventures  and  Adventukes  295 

try  through  which  we  were  passing  to  be),  and  the  awful 
calamity  that  overtook  so  many  to  carry  them  to  their 
untimely  and  unknown  graves. 

The  ravages  of  ehohn-a  carried  off  thousands.  One  family 
of  seven  a  little  further  down  the  Platte,  lie  all  in  one 
grave;  forty-one  persons  of  one  train  dead  in  one  day  and 
two  nights  tells  but  part  of  the  dreadful  story.  The  count 
of  fifty-three  freshly  made  graves  in  one  camp  ground  left 
a  vivid  impress  upon  my  mind  that  has  never  been  effaced  ; 
but  where  now  are  those  graves?  They  are  irrevocal)ly 
lost.  I  can  recall  to  mind  one  point  where  seventy  were 
buried  in  one  little  group,  not  one  of  the  graves  now  to 
be  seen — trampled  out  of  sight  by  the  hoofs  of  the  millions 
of  stock  later  passing  over  the  Trail. 

Bearing  this  in  mind,  how  precious  this  thought  that 
even  one  grave  has  been  rescued  from  oblivion,  and  how 
precious  will  become  the  memory  cf  the  deeds  of  those  who 
have  so  freely  dedicated  their  part  to  recall  the  events  of 
the  past  and  to  honor  those  sturdy  pioneers  who  survived 
those  trying  experiences  as  well  as  the  dead,  by  erecting 
those  monuments  that  now  line  the  Trail  for  nearly  two 
thousand  miles.  To  these,  one  and  all,  I  bow  ray  head  in 
greatful  appreciation  of  their  aid  in  this  work  to  per- 
petuate the  memory  of  the  pioneers,  and  especially  the 
5,000  school  children  who  have  each  contributed  tlieir  mite 
that  the  memory  of  the  dead  pioneers  might  remain  fresli 
in  their  minds  and  the  minds  of  generations  to  follow. 

A  drive  of  seventeen  miles  brought  us  to  the  town  of 
Bayard,  1,338  miles  on  the  way  from  The  Dalles,  Oregon, 
where  our  continuous  drive  began. 

CHIMNEY   ROCK. 

Chimney  Kock  is  six  miles  southwesterly,  in  full  view, 
a  curious  freak  of  nature  we  all  remembered  while  passing 
in  '52. 

The  base  reminds  one  of  an  umbrella  standing  on  the 
ground,  covering  perhaps  twelve  acres  and  running,  cone- 
shaped.  200  feet  to  the  base  of  the  spire  resting  upon  it. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  297 

The  spire  (chimney)  points  to  the  heavens,  which  would 
entitle  the  pile  to  a  more  appropriate  name,  as  like  n 
church  spire,  tall  and  slim,  the  wonder  of  all — how  it  comes 
that  the  hand  of  time  has  not  leveled  it  long  ago  and 
mingled  its  crumbling  substance  with  that  lying  at  its  ])ase. 
The  whole  pile,  like  that  at  Scott's  BluflP  and  Court  House 
Rock,  further  down,  is  a  sort  of  soft  sandstone,  or  cement 
and  clay,  gradually  crumbling  away  and  destined  to  be 
leveled  to  the  earth  in  centuries  to  come. 

A  local  story  runs  that  an  army  officer  trained  artillery 
on  this  spire,  shot  off  about  thirty  feet  from  the  top,  and 
was  afterwards  court-martialed  and  discharged  in  disgrace 
from  the  army;  but  I  could  get  no  definite  information, 
though  the  story  was  repeated  again  and  again.  It  would 
seem  incredible  that  an  intelligent  man,  such  as  an  arm>' 
officer,  would  do  such  an  act,  and  if  he  did  he  deserved 
severe  condemnation  and  punishment. 

I  noticed  that  at  Soda  Springs  the  hand  of  the  vandal 
has  been  at  work  and  that  interesting  phenomenon,  the 
Steamboat  Spring,  the  wonderment  of  all  in  1852,  with 
its  intennittent  spouting,  had  been  tampered  with  and 
ceased  to  act.  It  would  seem  the  degenerates  are  not  all 
dead  yet. 

north   PIjATTE,    NEBRASKA. 

At  North  Platte  the  ladies  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  appointed 
a  committee  to  undertake  to  erect  a  monument,  the  busi- 
ness men  all  refusing  to  give  up  any  time.  However,  W. 
C.  Ritner,  a  respected  citizen  of  North  Platte,  offered  to 
donate  a  handsome  monument  with  a  cement  base,  marble 
cap,  stone  and  cement  column,  five  and  a  half  feet  high, 
which  will  be  accepted  by  the  ladies  and  erected  in  a  suit- 
able place. 


298 


A  Busy  Life 


CHAPTER  XLVITI. 

'  DEATH    OP   TWIST. 

"Old  Oregon  Ti-ail  Monument  Exi)e(lition,  Brady  Island, 
Nebraska,  August  9,  1906,  Camp  No.  120,  odometer,  1.536|. 
— Yesterday  morning  Twist  ate  his  grain  as  usual  and 
showed  no  signs  of  sickness  until  we  were  on  the  road  two 


Twist. 


or  three  miles,  when  lie  began  to  put  his  tongue  out  and 
his  breathing  became  heavy.  But  he  leaned  on  the  yoke 
heavier  than  usual  and  seemed  determined  to  pull  the 
whole  load.  I  finally  stopped,  put  him  on  the  off  side, 
gave  liim  the  long  end  of  the  yoke,  and  tied  his  head  back 
with  the  halter  strap  to  the  chain;  but  to  no  purpose,  for 
he  pulled  by  the  head  very  heavy.  I  finally  unyoked, 
gave  him  a  (|uart  of  lard,  a  gill  of  vinegar  and  a  handful 


Vent  ('RES  and  Adventures  299 

of  sugar,  but  all  to  no  pur})ose,  for  lio  soon  foil  down  and 
in  two  hours  was  dead." 

Such  is  the  rcH'oi'd  in  my  journal  telling  of  the  death  of 
Ihis  noble  animal,  which  T  think  died  fi'om  eating  some 
poisonous  plant. 

When  we  started  from  ('amp  No.  1,  -January  29,  Puy- 
allup,  Washingtoji,  Twist  weighed  1,470  pounds.  After 
we  crossed  two  ranges  of  mountains,  had  wallowed  in  the 
snow^s  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  followed  the  tortuous,  rocky 
canyons  of  Burnt  River,  up  the  deep  sand  of  the  Snake, 
this  ox  had  gained  in  weight  137  pounds,  and  weighed 
1,607  pounds.  "While  laboring  under  the  short  end  of  the 
yoke  that  gave  him  fifty-five  per  cent,  of  the  draft  and 
an  increased  burden  he  would  keep  his  end  of  the  yoke  a 
little  ahead,  no  matter  how  much  the  mate  might  be  urged 
to  keep  up. 

There  are  striking  individualities  in  animals  as  well  as 
in  men,  and  I  had  liked  to  have  said  virtues  as  well ;  and 
why  not?  If  an  animal  always  does  his  duty,  is  faithful  to 
your  interest,  industrious — why  not  recognize  it,  even  if 
he  was  "nothing  but  an  ox"? 

We  are  wont  to  extol  the  virtues  of  the  dead,  and  to 
forget  their  shortcomings,  but  here  a  plain  statement  of 
facts  will  suffice  to  revive  the  memories  of  the  almost  for- 
gotten pa.st  of  an  animal  so  dear  to  the  pioneers  who 
struggled  across  plains  and  over  mountains  in  the  long  ago. 

To  undervstand  the  achievements  of  this  ox  it  is  neces- 
sary to  state  the  burden  he  carried.  The  wagon  weighed 
1,430  pounds,  is  a  wooden  axle  and  wide  track  and  had 
an  average  load  of  800  pounds.  He  had,  with  an  unbroken 
four-year  old  steer — a  natural-born  shirk— with  the  short 
end  of  the  yoke  before  mentioned,  hauled  this  wagon  1,776 
miles  and  was  in  better  working  trim  when  he  died  than 
when  the  trip  began.  And  yet  am  T  sure  that  at  some 
points  I  did  not  abuse  him  ?  What  about  coming  up  out 
of  Little  Canyon  or  rather  up  the  stee]),  rocky  steps  of 
stones  like  veritable  stairs,  when  I  used  the  goad,  and  he 
pulled  a  shoe  off  and  his  feet  from  under  him?     Was  T 


nnO  A     I'.rSY     T;1KK 

niereiful  then,  or  did  I  exact  more  than  I  ought?  1  can 
see  him  yet  in  my  mind,  while  on  his  knees  holding  the 
wagon  tj'om  i-olling  back  into  the  canyon  till  the  wheel 
eonhl  be  ])loeked  and  the  brakes  set.  Then,  when  bade 
to  start  the  load,  he  did  not  fiineh.  He  was  the  best  ox 
1  ever  saw,  without  exception,  and  his  loss  has  nearly 
l)roken  up  the  (^\i)edition,  and  it  is  one  ca.se  wliere  his 
like  can  not  be  obtained.  He  has  had  a  decent  l)urial  and 
a  head-board  will  mark  his  grave  and  recite  his  achieve- 
ments in  the  valuable  aid  rendered  in  this  expedition  to 
perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  Old  Oregon  Trail  and  for 
which  he  has  given  up  his  life. 

Wliat  shall  I  do?  Abandon  the  work?  No.  l>ut  1  can 
not  go  on  with  one  ox,  and  can  not  remain  here.  And 
80  a  horse  team  was  hired  to  take  us  to  the  next  town, 
Gothenburg — thii*teen  miles  distant — and  the  lone  ox  led 
l)ehind  the  wagon. 

GOTHENBURG,    NEBRASKA. 

''Gothenburg,  Nebraska,  August  10,  1906.  Camp  No. 
121,  odometer  1,549. — The  people  here  resolved  to  erect 
a  monument,  appointed  a  committee,  and  a  contribution  of 
some  fifteen  dollars  was  secured.  ' 

LEXINGTON. 

Again  hired  a  horse  team  to  haul  the  wagon  to  Lexing- 
ton. At  Lexington  T  thought  the  loss  of  th(!  ox  could  be 
repaired  by  buying  a  pair  of  heavy  cows  and  breaking 
them  in  to  work,  and  so  purchased  two  out  of  a  band  of 
200  cattle  nearby.  ''Why,  yes,  of  course  they  will  work," 
r  said,  when  a  bystander  had  asked  the  question.  "Why, 
1  have  seen  whole  teams  of  cows  on  the  Plains  in  '52,  and 
they  would  trip  along  so  merrily  one  would  be  tempted 
to  turn  the  oxen  out  and  get  cows.  Yes,  we  will  soon 
have  a  team,"  T  said,  "only  we  can't  go  very  far  in  a  day 
with  a  raw  team,  especially  in  this  hot  weather."  But 
one  of  the  cows  wouldn't  go  at  all;  we  could  not  lead  or 
dri\c  her.     Fnl  Ikt  in  the  \'oke  and  she  would  stand  stock 


ViONTirUKS    ANI>    ApVllNaniRKS  301 

still  jnst,  like  a  stubborn  mule.  Hitch  the  yoke  by  a  strong 
rope  behind  the  wagon  with  a  horse  team  to  pull,  she  would 
brace  her  feet  and  actually  slide  along,  but  wouldn't  lift 
a  foot.  I  never  saw  such  a  brute  before,  and  hoi)e  I  never 
will  again.  I  have  brokcMi  wild,  fighting,  kicking  steers  to 
the  yoke  and  enjoyed  the  sport,  but  from  a  sullen,  tame 
coAV  deliver  me. 

"Won't  you  take  her  back  and  give  me  another?"  I 
asked.  "Yes,  I  will  give  you  that  red  cow  (one  I  had 
rejected  as  unfit),  but  not  one  of  the  others."  "Then, 
what  is  this  cow  worth  to  you  1 ' '  Back  came  the  response, 
"Thirty  dollars,"  and  so  I  dropped  ten  dollars  (having 
paid  him  forty),  lost  the  better  part  of  a  day,  experienced 
a  good  deal  of  vexation.  "Oh,  if  I  could  only  have  Twist 
back  again." 

The  fact  gradually  dawned  upon  me  that  the  loss  of  that 
fine  ox  was  almost  irreparable.  I  could  not  get  track  of  an 
ox  anywhere,  nor  of  even  a  steer  large  enough  to  mate  the 
Dave  ox.  Besides,  Dave  always  was  a  fool.  I  could  scarcely 
teach  him  anything.  He  did  learn  to  haw,  by  the  word 
when  on  the  off  side,  but  wouldn't  mind  the  word  a  bit 
if  on  the  near  side.  Then  he  would  hold  his  head  way  up 
while  in  the  yoke  as  if  he  disdained  to  work,  and  poke  his 
tongue  out  at  the  least  bit  of  warm  weather  or  serious  work. 
Then  he  didn't  have  the  stamina  of  Twist.  Although  given 
the  long  end  of  the  yoke,  so  that  Twist  would  pull  fifty- 
five  per  cent,  of  the  load,  Dave  would  always  lag  behind. 
Here  was  a  case  where  the  individuality  of  the  ox  was  as 
marked  as  ever  between  man  and  man.  Twist  would  watch 
my  every  motion  and  mind  by  the  wave  of  the  hand,  but 
Dave  never  minded  anything  except  to  shirk  hard  work, 
while  Twist  always  seemed  to  love  his  work  and  would  go 
freely  all  day.  And  so  it  was  brought  home  to  me  more 
forcibly  than  ever  that  in  the  loss  of  the  Twist  ox  I  had 
almost  lost  the  whole  team. 

Now  if  this  had  occurred  in  1852  the  loss  could  have 
been  easily  remedied,  where  there  were  so  many  "broke" 
cattle,  and  where  there  were  always  several  yoke  to  the 


302  A  Busy  Liki: 

wagon.  So  when  I  drove  oul  with  a  hired  horse  team  that 
day  with  the  Dave  ox  ta^^in«;  on  beliind  and  sometimes 
pulling  on  liis  haltei-,  and  an  unbroken  cow,  it  may  easily 
be  guessed  the  pride  of  anticipated  sueeess  went  out,  and 
a  feeling  akin  to  despair  seized  npon  me.  Here  1  had 
two  yokes,  one  a  heavy  ox  yoke  and  the  other  a  light  cow's 
yoke,  but  the  cow,  T  thought,  could  not  be  worked  along- 
side the  ox  in  the  ox  yoke,  nor  the  ox  with  the  cow  in  the 
cow  yoke,  and  so  there  I  was  without  a  team  but  with  a 
double  encumbrance. 

Yes,  the  ox  has  passed — has  had  his  day — for  in  all  this 
State  I  have  been  nnable  to  find  even  one  yoke.  So  T 
trudged  along,  sometimes  behind  the  led  cattle,  wonder- 
ing in  my  mind  whether  or  no  I  had  been  foolish  to  under- 
take this  expedition  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  the  Ohl 
Oregon  Trail.  Had  I  not  been  rebuffed  by  a  number  of 
business  men  who  pushed  the  subject  aside  with,  "I  have 
no  time  to  look  into  it"?  Hadn't  I  been  compelled  to 
pass  several  towns  where  even  three  persons  could  not  be 
found  to  act  on  the  committee?  And  then  there  was  the 
experience  of  the  constant  suspicion  and  watch  to  see  if 
some  graft  could  not  be  discovered — some  lurking  specu- 
lation. All  this  could  be  borne  in  patience,  but  when 
coupled  with  it  came  the  virtual  loss  of  the  team,  is  it 
strange  that  my  spirits  went  down  below  a  normal  con- 
dition ? 

But  then  came  the  compensatory  thouglit  as  to  what 
had  been  accomplished;  how  three  States  had  responded 
cordially  and  a  fourth  as  well,  considering  the  sparse  popu- 
lation. How  could  1  account  for  the  difference  in  the 
reception?  It  was  the  press.  In  the  first  place  the  news- 
papers took  up  the  work  in  advan(;e  of  my  coming,  while 
in  the  latter  case  the  notices  and  commendation  followed 
ray  pi-esence  in  a  town.  And  so  T  (jueried  in  my  mind  as 
we  trudged  along — after  all,  I  am  sowing  the  seed  that 
will  bring  the  harvest  later.  'IMien  my  mind  would  run 
back  along  the  line  of  over  1,500  miles,  where  stand  nine- 
teen sentinels,  mostly  granite,  to  proelniin  for  the  centuries 


VKNT(rRli;s   AND   Advkntitk'Es  '^0'^ 

to  conu'  that  the  hand  of  communities  had  been  at  work 
and  plajited  these  shafts  that  the  memory  of  the  dead 
pioneers  iiii^ht  live;  whei-e  a  dozen  boulders,  including-  the 
great  ln(h'pendence  Roek,  also  bear  this  testimony,  and 
where  a  hnndi-ed  wooden  posts  mark  the  Trail,  when  stone 
was  unobtainable.  I  recalled  the  cordial  reception  in  so 
many  places;  the  outpouring  of  contributions  from  5,000 
school  children;  the  liberal  hand  of  the  people  that  built 
these  monuments;  the  more  than  20,000  people  attending 
the  dedication  ceremonies.  And  while  I  trudged  along 
and  thought  of  the  encouragement  that  I  had  received,  I 
forgot  all  about  the  loss  of  Twist,  the  recalcitrant  cow, 
the  dilemma  that  confronted  me,  only  to  awaken  from  my 
reverie  in  a  more  cheerful  mood.  "Do  the  best  you  can," 
I  said  almost  in  an  audible  tone,  "and  be  not  cast  down." 
and  my  spirits  rose  almost  to  the  point  of  exultation. 


CHAPTER  XLTX. 

KEARNEY,    NEBRASKA. 

At  that  beautiful  city  of  Kearney  we  were  accorded  a 
fine  camping  place  in  the  center  of  the  town  under  the 
spreading  boughs  of  the  shade  trees  that  line  the  streets, 
and  a  nice  green,  fresh-cut  sward  upon  which  to  pitch 
our  tents.  The  people  came  in  great  numbers  to  visit  the 
camp  and  express  their  approval  as  to  the  object  of  the 
trip.  I  said,  "Here  we  will  surely  get  a  splendid  monu- 
ment," but  when  I  came  to  consult  with  the  business  men 
not  one  could  be  found  to  give  up  any  time  to  the  work, 
though  many  seemed  interested.  The  president  of  the 
commercial  club  even  refused  to  call  a  meeting  of  the  club 
to  consider  the  subject,  l)ecause  he  said  he  had  no  time  to 
attend  the  meeting  and  thought  most  of  the  members  would 
be  the  same.  I  did  not  take  it  this  man  was  opposed  to 
the  proposed  work,  but  honestly  felt  there  were  more  im- 
portant matters  pressing  upon  the  time  of  business  men, 


804  A  Busy  Life 

and  said  the  subject  eouUl  he.  taken  up  at  tlieir  regular 
meetiug  in  the  near  future.  As  I  left  this  man's  office, 
who,  I  doubted  not,  had  spoken  the  truth,  I  wondered  to 
myself  if  these  busy  men  would  ever  find  time  to  die.  How^ 
did  they  find  time  to  eat?  or  to  sleep?  and  I  queried,  Is 
a  business  man's  life  worth  the  living,  if  all  his  wakeful 
moments  are  absorbed  in  grasping  for  gains?  But  I  am 
admonished  that  this  query  must  be  answered  each  for 
himself,  and  I  reluctantly  came  away  from  Kearney  with- 
out accomplishing  the  object  of  my  visit,  and  wondering 
whether  my  mission  was  ended  and  results  finished. 

The  reader  will  readily  see  that  I  would  be  the  more 
willing  listener  to  such  an  inner  suggestion,  in  view  of 
my  crippled  condition  to  carry  on  the  work.  And  might 
not  that  condition  have  a  bearing  to  bring  about  such 
results?  No.  For  the  people  seemed  to  be  greatly  inter- 
ested and  sympathetic.  The  press  was  particularly  kind 
in  their  notices,  commending  the  work,  but  it  takes  time 
to  arouse  the  business  men  to  action,  as  one  remarked  to 
me,  "You  can't  hurry  us  to  do  anything;  we  are  not  that 
kind  of  a  set."  This  was  said  in  a  tone  bordering  on  the 
offensive,  though  perhaps  expressing  only  a  truth. 

GRAND  ISLAND. 

I  did  not,  however,  feel  willing  to  give  up  the  work 
after  having  accomplished  so  much  on  the  1,700  miles 
traveled,  and  witli  less  than  200  miles  ahead  of  me,  and  so 
1  said,  "I  will  try  again  at  Grand  Island,"  the  next  place 
where  there  was  a  center  of  population,  that  an  effort 
would  prol)ably  succeed.  Here  I  found  there  was  a  decided 
public  sentiment  in  favor  of  taking  action,  but  at  a  later 
date — next  year — jointly  to  honor  the  local  pioneers  upon 
the  occasion  of  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  tlie  settlement 
around  and  about  the  city;  and  so,  this  dividing  the  atten- 
tion of  the  people,  it  was  not  thought  best  to  undertake 
the  work  now,  and  again  I  bordered  on  the  slough  of 
despondency. 

I  could  not  repeat  the  famous  words,  I  would  "fight  it 


Ventures  and  Adventures  305 

out  on  this  line  if  it  takes  all  .summer,"  i'oi-  Imvv,  it  is  the 
30th  of  August,  and  in  one  day  more  summer  will  be  gone. 
Neither  could  I  see  how  to  accomplish  more  than  prepare 
the  way,  and  that  now  the  press  is  doing,  and  sowing  seed 
upon  kindly  ground  that  will  in  the  future  lu'ing  forth 
abundant  harvest. 

Gradually  the  fact  became  uppermost  in  my  mind  that 
I  was  powerless  to  move;  that  my  team  was  gone.  No 
response  came  to  the  extensive  advertisements  for  an  ox 
or  a  yoke  of  oxen,  showing  clearly  there  were  none  in  the 
countrj^,  and  that  the  only  way  to  repair  the  damage  was 
to  get  unbroken  steers  or  cows  and  break  them  in.  This 
could  not  be  done  in  hot  weather,  or  at  least  cattle  unused 
to  work  could  not  go  under  the  yoke  and  render  effective 
service  while  seasoning,  and  so,  for  tlie  time  being,  the 
work  on  the  Trail  was  suspended. 

As  1  write  in  this  beautiful  grove  of  the  old  court 
house  grounds,  in  the  heart  of  this  embryo  city  of  Grand 
Island,  with  its  stately  rows  of  shade  trees,  its  modest, 
elegant  homes,  the  bustle  and  stir  on  its  business  streets, 
with  the  constant  passing  of  trains,  shrieking  of  whistles, 
i-inging  of  bells,  the  reminder  of  a  great  change  in  condi- 
tions, my  mind  reverts  back  to  that  June  day  in  1852  when 
I  passed  over  the  ground  near  where  the  city  stands.  Vast 
herds  of  buffalo  then  grazed  on  the  hills  or  leisurely  crossed 
our  track  and  at  times  obstructed  our  way.  Flocks  of 
antelope  frisked  on  the  outskirts  or  watched  from  vantage 
points.  The  prairie  dogs  reared  their  heads  in  comical 
attitude,  l)urrowing,  it  was  said,  with  the  rattlesnake  and 
the  badger. 

But  now  these  dog  colonies  are  gone ;  the  buffalo  has 
gone;  the  antelope  has  disappeared;  as  likewise  the  Indian. 
Now  all  is  changed.  Instead  of  the  parched  plain  we  saw 
in  1852,  with  its  fierce  clouds  of  dust  rolling  up  the  valley 
and  engulfing  whole  trains  until  not  a  vestige  of  them 
could  be  seen,  we  see  the  landscape  of  smiling,  fruitful 
fields,  of  contented  homes,  of  inviting  clumps  of  trees 
dotting  the  landscape.    The  hand  of  man  has  changed  what 

21—195% 


306  A  Busy  Life 

we  looked  upon  as  a  ]mri-en  plain  to  that  of  a  fruitful 
laud.  Where  then  there  were  only  stretehes  of  l)uffah> 
grass,  Jiow  waving-  fields  of  graiu  aud  great  fields  of  eorii 
send  forth  abundant  harvests.  Yes,  we  may  again  exclaim, 
"What  wondrous  charges  time  has  wrought." 

At  Grand  Island  I  shipped  to  Fremont,  Neb.,  to  head 
the  procession  celebrating  tlie  semi-centennial  of  found- 
ing that  city,  working  the  ox  and  cow  together;  thence  to 
Lincoln,  where  the  fii'st  edition  of  "The  Ox  Team"  was 
printed,  all  the  while  searching  for  an  ox  or  a  steer  large 
enough  to  mate  the  Dave  ox,  but  without  avail.  Finally, 
after  looking  over  a  thousand  head  of  cattle  in  the  stock 
yards  of  Omaha,  a  five-year-old  steer  was  found  and  broken 
in  on  the  way  to  Indianapolis,  where  I  arrived  January  5, 
1907,  eleven  months  and  seven  days  from  date  of  departure 
from  my  home  at  Puyallup,  2,600  miles  distant. 


CHAPTER  L. 

FROM    INDIANAPOLIS    TO    WASHINGTON, 

Upon  my  arrival  in  Indianapolis,  people  began  to  ask 
me  about  the  Trail,  and  to  say  they  had  never  heard  that 
the  Oregon  Trail  ran  through  that  city,  to  which  I  replied 
I  never  had  heard  that  it  did.  A  quizzical  look  some- 
times would  bring  out  an  explanation  that  the  intent  of 
the  expedition  was  as  much  to  work  upon  the  hearts  of 
the  people  as  to  work  upon  the  Trail  itself;  that  what  we 
wanted  was  to  fire  the  imagination  of  the  people  and  get 
them  first  to  know  there  was  such  a  thing  as  the  Oi-cgoii 
Trail  and  then  to  know  what  it  meant  in  history. 

After  passing  the  Missouri,  and  leaving  the  Trail  beliind 
me,  I  somehow  had  a  foreboding  that  I  might  be  mistaken 
for  a  faker  and  looked  upon  either  as  an  adventurer  or  a 
sort  of  a  "wandering  Jew"  and  shrank  from  the  ordeal. 
My  hair  had  grown  long  on  the  trip  across;  my  boots  wei-e 
some  the  worse  for  wear  and  uiy  old-fashioned  suit  (under- 


VKNTin{KS    AND    AdX'KNTI  iRKS  807 

stood  well  euuugli  by  i)i()iiet'rs  along  the  Trail;  that  showed 
dilapidation  all  combined,  made  me  not  the  most  present- 
able in  every  sort  of  eomiiany.  Coupled  with  that  had 
I  not  already  been -compelled  to  say  that  I  was  not  a  "corn 
doctor"  or  any  kind  of  a  doctor;  tliat  I  did  not  have  ])atent 
medicine  or  any  other  sort  of  medicine  to  sell,  and  that  I 
was  neither  soliciting  or  receiving  contributions  to  su})- 
poi't  the  expedition?  T  had  early  in  the  trip  realized  the 
importance  of  disarming  criticism  or  suspicion  that  there 
was  graft  or  speculation  in  the  work.  And  yet,  day  after 
day,  there  would  come  questions,  pointed  or  otherwise, 
evidently  to  probe  to  the  bottom  to  find  out  if  there  was 
lurking  somewhere  or  somehow  an  ulterior  object  not  ap- 
pearing on  the  surface.  There  being  none,  the  doubters 
would  be  disarmed  only  to  make  way  for  a  new  crop,  maybe 
the  very  next  hour. 

But  the  press,  with  but  one  exception,  had  been  exceed- 
ingly kind,  and  understood  the  work.  It  remained  for 
one  man*  of  the  thousand  or  more  who  wrote  of  the  work, 
at  a  later  date  to  write  of  his  "suspicions."  I  wrote  that 
gentleman  that  "suspicions  as  to  one's  motives  were  of  the 
same  cloth  as  the  'breath  of  scandal'  against  a  fair  lady's 
character,  leaving  the  victim  helpless  without  amende 
honorable  from  the  party  himself,"  and  gave  him  full  in- 
formation, but  he  did  not  respond  nor  so  far  as  I  know 
publish  any  explanation  of  the  article  in  his  paper. 

March  1st,  ]907,  found  me  on  the  road  going  eastward 
from  Indianapolis.  T  had  made  up  my  mind  that  Washing- 
ton City  should  be  the  objective  point,  and  that  Congress 
would  be  a  better  field  to  work  in  than  out  on  the  hope- 
lessly wide  stretch  of  the  Trail  where  one  man's  span  of 
life  would  certainly  run  before  the  work  could  be  accom- 
plished. 

But,  before  reaching  Congress,  it  was  well  to  spend  a 
season  or  campaign  of  education  or  manage  somehow  to 
get  the  work  before  the  general  public  so  that  the  Congress 
might  knoAv  about  it,  or  at  least  that  many  meml)ers  might 

*William  Allen  Wiiite. 


308  A  Busy  Life 

have  heard  about  it.  So  a  route  wa,s  laid  out  to  occupy 
the  time  until  the  fii-st  of  December,  just  before  Congress 
would  again  assemble,  and  be  with  them  "in  the  begin- 
ning." The  route  lay  from  Indianapolis,  through  Hamil- 
ton, Ohio ;  Dayton,  Columbus,  Buffalo,  then  Syracuse,  Al- 
bany, New  York  City,  Trenton,  N.  J. ;  Philadelphia,  Pa. ; 
Baltimore,  Md.,  thence  to  AVashinglon,  visiting  intermedi- 
ate points  along  the  route  outlined.  This  would  seem  to 
be  quite  a  formidable  undertaking  with  one  yoke  of  oxen 
and  a  big  "prairie  schooner"  wagon  that  weighed  1,400 
pounds,  a  wooden  axle,  that  would  speak  at  times  of  not 
watched  closely  with  tar  bucket  in  hand;  and  a  load  of 
a  thousand  pounds  or  more  of  camp  equipage,  etc.  And 
so  it  was,  but  the  reader  may  recall  the  fable  of  the 
"tortoise  and  tlie  hare"  and  find  the  lesson  of  persistence 
that  gave  the  race,  not  to  the  swiftest  afoot.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  on  the  29th  of  November,  1907,  twenty-two  months 
to  a  day  after  leaving  home  at  Puyallup,  I  drew  up  in 
front  of  the  White  House  in  Washington  City,  was  kindly 
received  by  President  Roosevelt,  and  encouraged  to  believe 
my  labor  had  not  been  lost. 

The  general  reader  may  not  be  interested  in  the  details 
of  my  varied  experiences  in  the  numerous  towTis  and  cities 
through  which  1  passed,  nevertheless  thei-e  were  incidents 
in  some  of  the  cities  well  worth  recording. 

As  noted  before,  the  press,  from  the  lieginning.  seemed 
to  understand  the  object,  and  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the 
work.  It  remained  for  one  paper  during  the  whole  trip 
(Hamilton,  Ohio)  to  solicit  pay  for  a  notice.  My  look  of 
astonishment  or  something,  it  seems,  wrought  a  change, 
and  the  notice  appeared,  and  I  am  able  to  record  that  not 
one  cent  was  paid  to  the  press  during  the  whole  trip,  and 
T  think  fully  a  thousand  articles  have  been  published  out- 
lining and  commending  the  work.  Had  it  not  been  for 
the  press,  no  such  progress  as  has  been  made  could  have 
been  accomplished,  and  if  the  appropriation  be  made  by 
Congress  to  mark  the  Trail,  tlie  press  did  it,  not,  howevei', 
forgetting  the  patient  oxen  who  did  th<'ir  part  so  well. 


Ventures  and  Advkntitres  300 

An  interesting:  incident,  to  me  at  least,  oecurred  in 
passing  througli  th(>  little  town  of  Huntsville,  ten  miles 
east  of  Hamilton,  Ohio,  where  I  was  born,  and  had  not 
seen  for  more  than  seventy  years.  A  snap  shot  of  the  old 
house  where  I  was  born  did  me  no  good,  fo7'  at  Dayton 
some  vandal  stole  my  kodak,  film  and  all,  containing  the 
precious  impression. 

Dayton  treated  me  nicely,  bought  a  goodly  number  of 
my  books  and  sent  me  on  my  way  rejoicing  with  no  further 
feeling  of  solicitude  toward  financing  the  expedition.  I 
had  had  particularly  bad  luck  in  the  loss  of  my  fine  ox : 
then  when  the  cows  were  bought  and  one  of  them  wouldn't 
go  at  all,  and  I  was  compelled  to  ship  the  outfit  to  Omaha, 
more  than  a  hundred  miles;  and  was  finally  forced  to  buy 
the  unbroken  steer  Dandy,  out  of  the  stockyards  at  Omaha, 
and,  what  was  more,  pay  out  all  the  money  I  could  rake 
and  scrape,  save  seven  dollars.  Small  wonder  I  should 
leave  Dayton  with  a  feeling  of  relief  brought  about  by 
the  ju'esence  in  my  pocket  of  some  money  not  drawn  from 
home.  I  had  had  other  experiences  of  discouragement  as 
well :  when  I  first  put  the  ' '  Ox  Team ' '  in  print,  it  was 
almost  "with  fear  and  trembling" — would  the  public  buy 
it?  I  could  not  know  without  trying,  and  so  a  thousand 
copies  only  were  printed,  which  of  course  brought  them 
up  to  a  high  price  per  copy.  But  these  sold,  and  two 
thousand  more  copies  printed  and  sold,  and  I  was  about 
even  on  the  expense,  when,  lo  and  behold,  my  plates  and 
cuts  were  burned  and  a  new  beginning  had  to  be  made. 

Mayor  Badger  of  Columbus  wrote,  giving  me  the  ''free- 
dom of  the  city,"  and  Mayor  Tom  Johnson  wrote  to  his 
chief  of  police  to  "treat  Mr.  Meeker  as  the  guest  of  the 
city  of  Cleveland,"  which  he  did. 

At  Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  though,  the  mayor  would  have  none 
of  it,  unless  I  would  pay  one  hundred  dollars  license  fee, 
which  of  course  I  would  not.  Fortunately,  though,  a  camp- 
ing ground  was  found  in  the  very  heart  of  the  city,  and  I 
received  a  hearty  welcome  from  the  citizens,  and  a  good 
hearing  as  well.    A  pleasant  episode  occurred  here  to  while 


310  A  Busy  Life 

away  the  time  as  well  as  to  create  a  good  feeling.  The 
upper  400  of  Buffalo  were  j)reparing  to  give  a  benefit  to 
one  of  the  liosj)ita1s  in  tlie  shape  of  a  circus.  Ehiborate 
l)reparations  had  been  made  and  a  part  of  the  i)rograin 
was  an  attack  l)y  Indians  on  an  emigrant  train,  the  Indians 
being  the  well  mounted  young  representatives  of  the  city's 
elite.  At  this  juncture  I  arrived  in  the  city,  and  was 
besieged  to  go  and  represent  the  emigrant  train,  for  which 
they  would  pay  me.  but  1  said,  "No,  not  for  ])ay,  but  T 
will  go."  And  so  there  was  quite  a  realistic  show  in  the 
"ring"  that  afternoon  and  evening,  and  the  lios})ital  re- 
ceived over  a  thousand  dollars  benefit. 

Near  Oneida  some  one  said  I-  had  better  take  to  the 
towpath  on  the  canal  and  save  distance,  besides  avoid  going 
over  the  hill,  adding  that  while  it  was  against  the  law, 
everybody  did  it  and  no  one  would  object.  So.  when  we 
came  to  the  forks  of  the  road,  I  followed  the  best  beaten 
track  and  soon  found  ourselves  traveling  along  on  the 
level,  hard  but  narrow  way,  the  towpath.  All  went  well. 
and  just  at  evening  on  an  elevated  bridge  across  the  canal, 
three  mules  were  crossing  and  a  canal-boat  was  seen  on 
the  opposite  side,  evidently  preparing  to  "camp"  for  the 
night.  With  the  kodak  we  were  able  to  catch  the  last 
mule's  ears  as  he  was  backed  into  the  boat  for  the  night, 
but  not  so  fortunate  the  next  day  when  the  boat  with 
three  men,  two  women  and  three  long-eared  mules  were 
squarely  met,  the  latter  on  the  towpath.  The  mules  took 
fright,  got  into  a  regular  mix-up,  broke  the  harness  and 
went  up  the  towpath  at  a  2:40  gait  and  were  with  diffi- 
culty brought  under  control. 

I  had  walked  into  Oneida  the  night  before,  and  so  did 
not  see  the  sight  or  hear  the  war  of  words  that  followed. 
The  men  ordered  W.  to  "take  that  outfit  off  the  towpath." 
His  answer  was  that  he  could  not  do  it  without  upsetting 
the  wagon.  The  men  said  if  he  would  not,  they  would 
d — n  (|uick,  and  started  toward  the  wagon  evidently  intent 
to  execute  their  threat,  meanwhile  swearing  at  the  top  of 
their  voices  and  the  women  swearing  in  chorus,  one  of  them 


VKXTrRF'^S    AND    AdVENTI'IJES  311 

fairly  shrieking.  My  old  and  trusted  inu/.zle-loading  rifle 
that  we  had  carried  across  the  Phiins  more  than  fifty-five 
yeai's  hefoi-e  lay  hand}'  by,  and  so  when  the  men  stai-ted 
toward  him,  \V.  jiicked  up  the  I'ifle  to  show  fight,  and 
called  on  the  dog  Jim  to  take  liold  of  the  men.  As  he 
i-aised  the  gun  to  use  as  a  club,  one  of  the  boatmen  threw 
up  his  hands,  bawling  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  ' '  Don 't  shoot, 
don't  shoot,"  forgot  to  mix  in  oaths,  and  slunk  out  of 
sight  behind  the  wagon ;  the  others  also  di-ew  back,  Jim 
showed  his  teeth  and  a  truce  followed  when  one  of  the 
women  became  hysterical  and  the  other  called  loudly  for 
lielp.  With  but  little  inconvenience  the  mules  were  taken 
off  the  path  and  the  team  drove  on,  whereupon  a  volley 
of  oaths  was  hurled  at  the  object  of  all  the  trouble,  in 
which  the  women  joined  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  continu- 
ing as  long  as  they  could  be  heard,  one  of  them  shrieking 
— drunk,  W.  thinks. 

The  fun  of  it  was,  the  gun  that  had  spread  such  con- 
sternation hadn't  been  loaded  for  more  than  twenty-five 
yeai'S,  but  the  sight  of  it  was  enough  for  the  three  stalwart 
braves  of  the  "raging  canal". 

I  vowed  then  and  there  that  we  would  tT'a\'el  no  more  on 
the  towpath  of  the  canal. 

When  I  came  to  Albany,  the  mayor  wouldn't  talk  to 
me  after  once  taking  a  look  at  my  long  hair.  He  was 
an  old  man,  and  as  I  was  afterwards  told,  a  "broken-down 
politician"  (whatever  that  may  mean).  At  any  rate,  he 
ti-eated  me  (|uite  rudely  I  thought,  though  I  presume,  in 
his  opinion,  it  was  the  best  way  to  get  rid  of  a  nuisance, 
and  so  I  passed  on  through  the  city. 

But  it  took  New  York  City  to  cap  the  climax — to  bring 
me  all  sort  of  experiences,  sometimes  with  the  police,  some- 
times with  the  o'aping  crowds,  and  sometimes  at  the  city 
halJ. 

Mayor  McLellan  was  not  in  the  city  when  I  arrived,  but 
the  acting  mayor  said  that  while  he  could  not  grant  a 
permit,  to  come  on  in — he  would  have  the  police  commis- 
sioner instruct  his  men  not  to  molest  me.     Either  the  in- 


312  A  Busy  Life 

^stl•m•tioLls  were  uot  general  enough  or  else  the  men  paid  no 
attention,  for  when  I  got  down  an  far  as  161st  Street  on 
Amsterdam  Avenue,  a  policeman  interfered  and  ordered 
my  driver  to  take  the  team  to  the  police  station,  which  he 
very  i)roperly  refused  to  do.  It  Avas  after  dark  and  I  had 
just  gone  around  the  corner  to  engage  quarters  for  the 
night  when  this  occurred ;  returning,  I  saw  the  young 
policeman  attempt  to  move  the  team,  but  as  he  didn't  know 
how,  they  wouldn't  budge  a  peg,  whereupon  he  arrested 
my  driver,  and  took  him  away.  Just  theu  another  police 
trifed  to  coax  me  to  drive  the  team  down  to  the  police  sta- 
tion; I  said,  "No,  sir,  I  will  not."  He  said  there  were 
good  stables  down  there,  whereupon  I  told  him  I  had 
already  engaged  a  stable,  and  would  drive  to  it  unless 
prevented  by  force.  The  crowd  had  become  large  and  be- 
gan jeering  the  policeman.  The  situation  was  that  he 
couldn't  drive  the  team  to  the  station,  and  I  wouldn't,  and 
so  there  we  were.  To  arrest  me  would  make  matters  worse 
by  leaving  the  team  on  the  street  without  any  one  to  care 
for  it,  and  so  finally  the  fellow  got  out  of  the  way,  and 
I  drove  the  team  to  the  stable,  he,  as  well  as  a  large  crowd, 
following.  As  soon  as  I  was  in  the  stable  he  told  me  to 
come  along  with  him  to  the  police  station;  I  told  him  I 
would  go  when  I  got  the  team  attended  to,  but  not  before 
unless  he  wished  to  carry  me.  The  up-shot  of  the  matter 
was  that  by  this  time  the  captain  of  the  precinct  arrived 
and  called  his  man  off,  and  ordered  my  driver  released.  He 
had  had  some  word  from  the  city  hall  but  had  not  notified 
his  men.  It  transpired  there  was  an  ordinance  against 
allowing  cattle  to  be  driven  on  the  streets  of  New  York. 
Of  course,  this  was  intended  to  apply  to  loose  cattle,  but 
the  police  interpreted  it  to  mean  any  cattle,  and  had  the 
clubs  to  enforce  their  interpretation.  I  was  in  the  city, 
and  couldn't  get  out  without  subjecting  myself  to  arrest 
according  to  their  version  of  the  laws,  and  in  fact  I  didn't 
want  to  get  out.  I  wanted  to  drive  down  Broadway  from 
one  end  to  the  other,  which  I  did.  a  month  later,  as  will 
presently  be  related. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  313 

All  hands  said  nothing  short  of  an  ordinance  by  the 
board  of  aldermen  would  clear  the  way ;  so  I  tackled  the 
aldermen.  The  New  York  Tribune  sent  a  man  over  to 
the  city  hall  to  intercede  for  me;  the  New  York  Herald 
did  the  same  thing,  and  so  it  came  about,  the  aldermen 
passed  an  ordinance  granting  me  the  right  of  way  for 
thirty  days,  and  also  endorsed  my  work.  I  thought  my 
trouble  was  over  when  that  passed.  Not  so,  the  mayor 
was  absent,  and  the  acting  mayor  could  not  sign  an  ordi- 
nance until  after  ten  days  had  elapsed.  Then  the  city 
attorney  came  in  and  said  the  aldermen  had  exceeded 
their  authority  as  they  could  not  legally  grant  a  special 
privilege.  Then  the  acting  mayor  said  he  would  not  sign 
the  ordinance,  but  if  I  would  wait  until  the  next  meeting 
of  the  aldermen,  if  they  did  not  rescind  the  oridance, 
it  would  be  certified  as  he  would  not  veto  it,  and  that  as 
no  one  was  likely  to  test  the  legality  he  thought  I  wouhl 
be  safe  in  acting  as  though  it  was  legal,  and  so,  just  thirty 
days  from  the  time  I  had  the  bother  with  the  ])olice,  and 
had  incurred  $250.00  expense,  I  drove  down  Broadway 
for  161st  Street  to  the  Battery,  without  a  slip  or  getting 
into  any  serious  scrape  of  any  kind  except  with  one  auto- 
mobilist  who  became  angered,  but  afterwards  became  "as 
good  as  pie,"  as  the  old  saying  goes.  The  rain  fell  in 
torrents  as  we  neared  the  Battery.  I  had  engaged  quarters 
for  he  cattle  nearby,  but  the  stablemen  went  back  on  me, 
and  wouldn't  let  me  in,  and  so  drove  up  Water  Street  a 
long  way  before  finding  a  place  and  then  was  compelled 
to  pay  $4.00  for  stable  room  and  hay  for  the  cattle  over 
night. 

Thirty  days  satisfied  me  with  New  York.  The  fact  was 
the  crowds  were  so  great  that  congestion  of  traffic  always 
followed  my  presence,  and  I  would  be  compelled  to  move. 
I  went  one  day  to  the  City  Hall  Park  to  get  the  Greeley 
statue  photographed  with  my  team,  and  could  not  get  away 
without  the  help  of  the  police,  and  even  then  with  great 
difficulty. 

A  trip  across  Brooklyn  Bridge  to  Broolclyn  was  made. 


Vkntftrrs  and  Adventures  315 

t-nl  I  found  the  congestion  tliere  almost  as  great  as  in  the 
city  pi()])(i\  Tlic  month  1  was  on  the  streets  of  New  York 
Avas  a  iiiontli  of  anxiety,  and  I  was  glad  enough  to  get  out 
of  the  city  on  the  17th  of  October,  just  thirty  days  after 
the  drive  down  Broadway,  and  sixty  days  after  the  holdup 
on  IGlst  Street,  and  the  very  day  the  hig  run  on  the 
Knickei'hoekci-  Bank  began. 

I  came  near  meeting  a  heavy  loss  two  days  before  leaving 
the  city.  Somehow  I  got  sandwiched  in  on  the  East  Side 
above  the  Brooklyn  bridge  in  the  congested  district  of  the 
foreign  (inarters  and  finally  at  nightfall  drove  into  a  stable, 
put  the  oxen  in  the  stalls  and,  as  usual,  the  dog  Jim  in  the 
wagon.  The  next  morning  Jim  was  gone.  The  stablemen 
.said  he  had  left  the  wagon  a  few  moments  after  I  had  and 
had  been  stolen.  The  police  accused  the  stablemen  of 
being  a  party  to  the  theft,  in  which  I  think  they  were 
right.  Anyway,  the  day  wore  off  and  no  tidings.  Money 
could  ]iot  l)uy  that  dog.  He  was  an  integral  part  of  the 
expedition;  always  on  the  alert;  always  watchful  of  the 
\vagon  during  my  absence  and  always  willing  to  mind  what 
I  hid  him  to  do.  He  had  had  more  adventures  than  any 
other  member  of  the  work;  first  he  had  been  tossed  over 
a  high  brush  by  the  ox  Dave ;  then  shortly  after  pitched 
headlong  over  a  barbed  wire  fence  by  an  irate  cow;  then 
came  the  fight  with  a  wolf;  following  this  came  a  narrow 
eseape  from  the  rattlesnake  in  the  road ;  after  this  a  trolley 
ear  run  over  him,  rolling  him  over  and  over  again  until 
he  came  out  as  diz/y  as  a  drunken  man — 1  thought  he  was 
a  "goner"  that  time  sure,  but  he  soon  straightened  up, 
and  finally  in  the  streets  of  Kansas  City  was  run  over  by 
a  heavy  truck  while  fighting  another  dog.  The  other  dog 
was  killed  outright,  while  Jim  came  near  having  his  neck 
broken,  lost  one  of  his  best  fighting  teeth  and  had  several 
others  broken.  I  sent  him  to  a  veterinary  surgeon  and 
curiously  enough  he  made  no  i)i'otest  while  having  the 
broken  teeth  repaired  and  extracted.  He  could  eat  nothing 
hut  soup  and  milk  for  several  days,  and  that  pouivd  down 
him,  as  he  could  ncithci'  hip  nor  swallow  li<|uids.      It  came 


Vknturios  and  Advkntitres  317 

very  near  liciiig-  "all  d;i.y"  with  Jitn,  but  he  is  here;  with 
luc  ;ill  right  Jiiul  .sc(uiiingly  g"ood  for  a,  lunv  adventure. 

No  other  iiu^thod  could  disclose  when;  to  find  hiiri  than 
to  offer  a  rcnvard,  which  I  did,  and  feel  sure  1  paid  the 
twenty  dollai's  to  one  of  the  fellow-parties  to  the  theft  who 
was  brazen  faced  enough  to  demand  23ay  for  keeping  him. 
Then  was  wiien  I  got  up  and  talked  pointedly,  and  was  glad 
enough  to  get  out  of  that  part  of  the  city. 

Between  Newark  and  Elizabeth  City,  New  Jersey,  at  a 
point  known  as  "Lyons  Farm,"  the  old  "Meeker  Home- 
stead" stands,  built  in  the  year  1767.  Here  the  "Meeker 
Tribe,"  as  we  called  ourselves,  came  out  to  greet  me  near 
forty  strong,  as  shown  by  the  illustration.*  Except  in  Phila- 
delpliia,  1  did  not  receive  much  recognition  between  Eliza- 
beth City  and  Washington.  Wilmington  would  have  none 
of  it,  except  for  pay,  and  so  I  passed  on,  but  at  Philadel- 
phia I  was  bid  to  go  on  Broad  Street  under  the  shadow  of 
the  great  city  hall  where  great  crowds  came  and  took  a  lot 
of  my  literature  away  during  the  four  days  I  tarried ;  in 
Baltimore  1  got  a  "cold  shoulder"  and  passed  through  tlu^ 
city  without  halting  long.  In  parts  of  Maryland  1  found 
many  lank  oxen  with  long  horns  and  light  (puirters,  the 
drivers  not  being  nuich  interested  in  the  outfit  excei)t  to 
remark,  "Them's  mighty  fine  cattle,  strangei';  where  do 
you  come  from  ? ' '  and  like  passing  remarks. 

But  when  I  reached  Washington,  the  atmosphere,  so  to 
speak,  changed — a  little  bother  with  the  ]>o]ice  a  few  days, 
but  soon  brushed  aside.  T  had  been  just  twenty-two  months 
to  a  day  in  reaching  AA^ashington  from  the  time  1  made 
my  first  day's  drive  from  my  home  at  Puyallup,  January 
29th,  1906.  Tt  took  President  Roosevelt  to  extend  a  royal 
welcome. 

"Well,  well.  WELii,  WELL,"  was  the  exclamation  tlial 
Fell  from  his  lips  as  he  came  neai'  enough  the  outfit  to  ex 
amine  it  critically,  which  he  did.     Senator  Piles  and  Re})- 
resentative   ('ushman   of   the   Washington    State    Congres- 
sional delegation  had  introduced  me  to  the  President  in  the 

*See  illustration,  Cliaptcr  T. 


320  A  Busy  Life 

cabinet  room.  Mr.  Roosevelt  showed  a  lively  interest  in 
the  work  from  the  start.  He  did  not  need  to  be  told  that 
the  Trail  was  a  battlefield,  or  that  the  Oregon  pioneers  who 
moved  out  and  occupied  the  Oregon  conntry  while  yet  in 
dispute  between  Great  Britain  and  the  Ignited  States  were 
heroes  Avho  fought  a  strenuous  battle  as  "winners  of  the 
farther  west,"  for  he  fairly  snatched  the  words  from  my 
lips  and  went  even  farther  than  I  had  even  dreamed  of, 
let  alone  having  hoped  for,  in  invoking  Government  aid  to 
carry  on  the  work. 

Addressing  Senator  Piles  the  President  said  with  empha- 
sis, "I  am  in  favor  of  this  work  to  mark  this  Trail  and 
if  you  will  bring  ])efore  Congress  a  measure  to  accomplish 
it,  I  am  with  you,  and  will  give  it  my  support  to  do  it 
thoroughly. ' ' 

Mr.  Roosevelt  thought  the  suggestion  of  a  memorial  high- 
way should  first  come  from  the  states  through  which  the 
Trail  runs ;  anyway  it  would  be  possible  to  get  eongi-es- 
sional  aid  to  mark  the  Trail,  and  that  in  any  event,  ought 
to  be  speedilj^  done. 

Apparently,  on  a  sudden  recollecting  other  engagements 
pressing,  the  President  asked,  "Where  is  your  team?  T 
want  to  see  it."  Upon  being  told  that  it  was  near  by,  with- 
out ceremony,  and  without  his  hat  he  was  soon  alongside, 
asking  ([uestions  faster  than  they  could  he  answered,  not 
idle  ( I  uestions,  but  such  as  showed  his  intense  desire  to  get 
real  information — bottom  facts — as  the  saying  goes. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

THE  RETURN  TRII'. 

I  left  Wasliington  on  the  8th  of  January,  1908,  a)id 
shipped  the  outfit  over  the  Alleghany  Mountains  to  Mc- 
Keesport,  Pennsylvania,  having  been  in  Washington,  as 
the  reader  will  note,  thirty-nine  days.  From  McKeesport 
I  drove  to  Pittsl)ufg  and  there  put  the  team   into  winter 


Ventures  and  Adventures  321 

quarters  to  remain  until  the  5th  of  March ;  thence  shipped 
by  boat  on  the  Ohio  River  to  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  stopping  in 
that  city  but  one  day,  and  from  there  shipping  by  rail  to 
St.  Louis,  Missouri.  At  Pittsburg  and  adjacent  cities  T 
was  received  cordially  and  encouraged  greatly  to  believe 
the  movement  for  a  national  highway  had  taken  a  deep  hold 
in  the  minds  of  the  people.  The  Pittsburg  Automobile  Club 
issued  a  circular  letter  to  all  the  automobile  clubs  of  Penn- 
sylvania, and  likewise  to  the  congi'essional  delegation  of 
Pennsylvania,  urging  them  to  favor  not  only  the  bill  then 
pending  in  Congress,  appropriating  $50,000  for  marking 
the  Oregon  Trail,  but  also  a  measure  looking  to  the  joint 
action  of  the  national  government  and  the  states,  to  build 
a  national  highway  over  the  Oregon  Trail  as  a  memorial 
road.  I  was  virtually  given  the  freedom  of  the  city  of 
Pittsburg,  and  sold  my  literature  without  hindrance;  but 
not  so  when  I  came  to  Cincinnati.  The  mayor  treated  me 
with  scant  courtesy,  but  the  automobile  clubs  of  Cincinnati 
took  action  at  once  similar  to  that  of  the  Pittsburg  club. 
Again  when  T  arrived  in  St.  Louis.  I  received  at  the  city 
ball  the  same  frigid  reception  that  had  been  given  me  at 
Cincinnati,  although  strenuous  efforts  were  made  by  promi- 
nent citizens  to  bring  out  a  different  result.  However,  the 
mayor  was  obdurate  and  so  after  tarrying  for  a  few  days,  I 
drove  out  of  the  city,  greatly  disappointed  at  the  i-esults, 
but  not  until  after  the  automobile  club  and  the  Daughters 
of  the  American  Revolution  had  taken  formal  action  en- 
dorsing the  work.  My  greater  disappointment  was  that 
here  I  had  anticipated  a  warm  reception.  St.  Louis,  prop- 
erly speaking,  had  been  the  head  center  of  the  movement 
that  finally  established  the  Oregon  Trail.  Here  was  where 
Weythe.  Bonneyville,  "Whitman  and  others  of  the  earlier 
moveuients  out  on  the  trail  had  outfitted  ;  but  there  is  now 
a  commercial  generation,  many  of  whom  that  care  but  little 
about  the  subject.  Nevertheless  T  found  a  goodly  number 
of  zealous  advocates  of  the  cause  of  marking  the  Trail. 

The  drive  from  St.  Louis  to  Jefferson  Citv,  the  capital 
of  the  State  of  Missouri,  was  tedious  and  without  results 
22—1958 


322  A  Busy  Life 

other  than  reacliing  the  point  where  actual  drivini;  began 
in  early  days. 

Governor  Folk  came  out  on  the  state  liouse  steps  to  have 
liis  photograph  taken  and  otherwise  signified  his  approval 
of  the  work,  and  I  was  accorded  a  cordial  hearing  by  the 
citizens!  of  that  city.  On  the  fourth  of  April  I  arrived  at 
Independence.  Missouri,  which  is  generally  understood  to 
be  the  eastern  terminus  of  the  Trail. 

1  found.  hoM'ever,  that  many  of  the  pioneers  shipped 
father  up  the  Missouri,  some  driving  from  Atchison,  some 
from  Leavenworth,  others  from  St.  Joseph  and  at  a  little 
later  period,  multitudes  from  Kainsville  (now  Council 
Bluffs),  where  Whitman  and  Parker  made  their  final  break 
from  civilization  and  boldly  turned  their  faces  westerly  for 
the  unknowai  land  of  Oregon. 

A  peculiar  cojidition  of  affairs  existed  at  Independence. 
The  nearby  giant  cit}'  of  Kansas  City  had  long  ago  over- 
shadowed the  embryo  commercial  mart  of  the  early  thirties 
and  had  taken  even  that  early  trade  from  Independence. 
However,  the  citizens  of  Independence  manifested  an  inter- 
est in  the  work  and  took  measures  to  raise  a  fund  for  a 
$5,000  monument.  At  a  meeting  of  the  commercial  club 
it  was  resolved  to  raise  the  funds,  but  found  to  be 
"uphill  work."  "Whether  they  will  succeed  is  poblemat- 
ical.  A  novel  scheme  had  been  adopted  to  raise  funds.  A 
local  author  proposed  to  write  a  drama,  "The  Oregon 
Trail,"  and  put  it  on  the  stage  at  Independence  and  Kansas 
City,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Monument  fund.  If  he  can  suc- 
ceed in  carrying  out  successfully  the  plot  as  outlined,  he 
ought  to  write  a  play  that  would  be  a  moniiinent  to  the 
thought  as  well  as  to  pro\nde  funds  for  a  moniuuent  to  the 
Trail,  for  certainly  here  is  a  theme  that  would  not  only  fire 
the  imagination  of  an  audience  but  likewise  enlist  their 
sympathies.  I  am  so  impressed  with  the  importance  of  this 
work  that  I  am  tempted  to  outline  the  theme  in  the  hope 
if  his  attempt  does  not  succeed,  that  others  may  be 
prompted  to  undertake  the  work. 

First,  the  visit  of  the  four  Flat  Head  Indians  in  search 


Ventures  and  Adventures  323 

ol'  llic  ■"white  man's  book  oi'  heaven,"  entertained  in  St. 
Louis  by  Gen.  George  llogers  Clark,  of  Lewis  and  Chirk 
fame,  until  two  of  them  died;  then  the  death  of  a  third  on 
the  way  home;  tlie  liistoric  speech  of  one,  telling  of  their 
disappointment,  and  final  return  home  of  the  single  sur- 
vivor; then  follows  the  two-thousand-mile  bridal  tour  of 
Whitman  and  Spauldiug,  and  this  in  turn  by  tlie  historic 
moveuient  of  the  early  home  builders  to  the  Oregon  country 
with  its  gi-and  results;  the  fading  memory  of  a  forgetful 
generation  until  the  recollections  of  the  grand  highway  is 
recovered  in  a  blaze  of  glory  to  be  handed  down  to  succeed- 
ing generations,  by  the  homage  of  a  nation. 

At  Kansas  City,  Mo.,  the  thoughts  of  the  people  had  been 
turned  to  the  Santa  Fe  Trail  by  the  active  campaign  in 
the  border  state  of  Kansas  in  erecting  markers  on  that  trail. 
To  my  utter  surprise  it  seemed  that  the  Oregon  Trail  had 
almost  been  forgotten ;  the  sentiment  and  thought  had  all 
been  centered  on  the  Santa  Fe  Trail.  I  tarried  with  them 
exactly  one  month,  spoke  to  numerous  organized  bodies, 
and  came  away  with  the  feeling  the  seed  had  been  planted 
that  would  revive  the  memory  of  the  Oregon  Trail  and 
finally  result  in  a  monument  in  the  greater  city.  In  the 
lesser  Kansas  City,  Kansas,  I  visited  all  the  public  schools, 
spoke  to  the  eleven  thousand  school  children  of  the  city 
and  came  away  with  the  satisfaction  of  having  secured 
contributions  from  over  3,000  children  to  a  fund  for  erect- 
ing a  monument  in  that  city. 

To  further  interest  the  children  of  the  State  of  Kansas, 
I  jilaced  $25.00  in  the  hands  of  their  state  superintendent  of 
schools,  to  be  offered  as  a  prize  for  the  best  essay  on  the 
Oregon  Trail.  This  contest  has  been  determined  during 
the  calendar  year  of  190S  and  the  award  made. 

All  existing  maps  in  the  State  of  Kansas  ignore  the 
Oregon  Trail.  The  "Santa  Fe  Trail"  is  shown;  there  is 
a  "Fremont  Trail,"  a  "California  Trail,"  a  "Mormon 
Trail,"  but  not  one  mile  of  an  "Oregon  Trail,"  although 
this  gi-eat  historic  ancient  trail  traversed  the  state  for  fully 
two  hundred  miles.     This  incident  shows  how  extremely 


Vkntures  and  Adventures  325 

iiuportaiil,    that  earJy    action    to    mark   the    Oi'ogoii    Trail 
should  be  taken  before  it  is  too  bite. 

The  Santa  Fe  and  Oregon  trails  from  IndepeJideiiee  and 
Kansas  City  are  identical  out  to  the  town  of  Gardner,  Kan- 
sas, forty  miles  or  thereabouts.  Here,  the  Santa  Fe  Trail 
bore  on  to  the  west  and  finally  southwest,  while  the  Oregon 
Trail  bore  steadily  on  to  tlie  northwest  and  encountered 
the  Platte  Valley  below  Grand  Island  in  what  is  now  Ne- 
braska. At  the  "forks  of  the  road,"  the  historian  Chit- 
tenden says,  "a  simple  signboard  was  seen  which  carried 
the  words  'Road  to  Oregon,'  thus  pointing  the  way  for 
two  thousand  miles.  No  such  signboard  ever  before 
pointed  the  road  for  so  long  a  distance  and  probably  an- 
other such  never  will.  1  determined  to  make  an  effort  to 
at  least  recover  the  spot  where  this  historic  sign  once  stood, 
and  if  possible  plant  a  marker  there.  Kind  friends  in 
Kansas  City,  one  of  whom  I  had  not  met  for  sixty  years, 
took  me  in  their  automobile  to  Gardner,  Kansas,  where, 
after  a  search  of  two  hours,  the  two  survivors  were  found 
who  were  able  to  point  out  the  spot — Mr.  V.  R.  Ellis  and 
William  J.  Ott,  whose  residence  in  the  near  vicinity  dated 
back  nearly  fifty  years ;  aged  respectively,  77  and  82  years. 
The  point  is  at  the  intersection  of  Washington  and  Central 
Street  in  the  town  of  Gardner,  Kansas.  In  this  little  town 
of  a  few  hundred  inhabitants  stands  a  monument  for  the 
Santa  Fe  Trail,  a  credit  to  the  sentimental  feelings  of  the 
community,  but,  having  expended  their  energies  on  that 
work,  it  Avas  imjjossible  to  get  them  to  undertake  to  erect 
another,  although  I  returned  a  few  days  later,  spoke  to  a 
meeting  of  the  town  council  and  citizens  and  offered  to  se- 
cure $250.00  elsewhere  if  the  town  would  undertake  to 
raise  a  like  sum. 

This  last  trip  cost  me  over  a  hundred  dollars.  As  I  left 
the  train  at  Kansas  City  on  my  return,  my  pocket  was 
''picked"  and  all  the  money  I  had,  save  a  few  dollars,  was 
gone.  This  is  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  have  lost  money 
in  that  way,  and  I  want  it  to  be  the  last. 

I  planned  to  drive  up  the  Missouri  and  investigate  the 


326  A  Busy  Life 

i-(jiiiaii]iii^n  live  proiij^s  of  The  Trail — Jjcavcnuui-tli,  Atchi- 
son, St.  Jos(^pk  and  Kaiiesville,  the  other,  Indepeiideuce  and 
Westpoint  (now  Kansas  City),  considered  as  one — bnt  first 
drove  to  Topeka,  the  capital  city  of  the  State  of  Kansas, 
where  I  arrived  May  11th  (1908).  The  "Trail"  crosses 
the  Kansas  River  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  state 
house — not  three  blocks  away — yet  only  a  few  knew  of  its 
existence.  The  state  had  appropi-iated  -1^1,000  to  mark  the 
Santa  Fe  Trail,  and  the  Daughters  of  the  Revolution  had 
conducted  a  campaign  of  supplementing  this  fund  and  had 
actually  procured  the  erection  of  96  markers.  While  I  re- 
ceived a  respectful  hearing  by  these  ladies,  yet  they  shrank 
from  undertaking  new  work  at  the  present  time.  The  same 
conditions  controlled  at  Leavenworth  and  likewise  at  Atchi- 
son, and  hence,  I  did  not  tarry  long  at  either  place,  but  at 
all  three,  Topeka,  Leavenworth  and  Atchison,  a  lively  inter- 
est was  manifested,  as  well  as  at  Lawrence,  and  I  am  led 
to  feel  the  drive  was  not  lost,  although  no  monument  was 
secured,  but  certainly  the  people  do  now  know  there  is  an 
Oregon  Trail.  All  the  papers  did  splendid  work  and  have 
carried  on  the  work  in  a  way  that  will  leave  a  lasting  im- 
pression. 

On  the  23d  of  May  the  team  arrived  at  St.  Joseph,  Mis- 
souri. At  this  .point  many  pioneers  had  outfitted  in  early 
days  and  the  sentiment  was  in  hearty  accord  with  the  work, 
yet  plainly  there  would  be  a  hard  ' '  tug ' '  to  get  the  people 
together  on  a  plan  to  erect  a  monument.  "Times  were 
very  tight  to  undertake  such  a  work"  came  the  response 
from  so  many  that  no  organized  effort  was  made.  By  this 
time  the  fact  became  known  that  the  committee  in  Congress 
having  charge  of  the  bill  appropriating  $50,000  to  mark 
the  Trail,  had  taken  action  and  had  made  a  favorable  re- 
port, and  Avhich  is  universality  held  to  be  almost  equivalent 
to  the  passage  of  the  bill. 

So,  all  things  consid(U"ed,  the  conclusion  was  reached  to 
suspend  operation,  ship  the  team  home  and  foi*  the  time 
l)eing  take  a  rest  from  the  woi'k.  I  had  been  out  from 
home  twenty-eight  months,  lacking  but  five  days,  hence  it 


Ventures  and  Adventures  327 

is  small  Avonder  if  I  should  conclude  to  listen  to  the  inner 
longings  to  get  back  to  the  home  and  home  life.  Put  your- 
self in  my  place,  reader,  and  see  what  you  think  you  would 
have  done.  True,  the  Trail  was  not  yet  fully  nor  properly 
marked,  yet  something  had  been  accomplished  and  with 
this,  the  thought,  a  good  deal  more  might  be  expected  from 
the  seed  planted. 

May  26th  I  shipped  the  outfit  to  Portland,  Oregon,  where 
I  arrived  on  the  6th  day  of  June  (1908),  and  went  into 
camp  on  the  same  grounds  I  had  camped  on  in  March 
(1906)   on  my  outward  trip. 

Words  cannot  express  mj"-  deep  feelings  of  gratitude  for 
the  royal,  cordial  reception  given  me  by  the  citizens  of 
Portland,  from  the  mayor  down  to  the  humblest  citizen, 
and  for  the  .joyous  reunion  with  the  2,000  pioneers  who  had 
just  assembled  for  their  annual  meeting. 

The  drive  from  Portland  to  Seattle  is  one  long  to  be  re- 
member, and  while  occupying  a  goodly  number  of  days, 
yet  not  one  moment  of  tedious  time  hung  heavy  on  my 
shoulders,  and  on  the  18th  day  of  July,  1908,  I  drove  into 
the  city  of  Seattle  and  the  long  "trek"  was  ended. 

It  would  be  unbecoming  in  me  to  assume  in  a  vain- 
glorious mood  that  the  manifestation  of  cordiality,  and  I 
may  say  joy,  in  the  hearts  of  many  at  my  homecoming 
was  wholly  due  to  the  real  merit  of  ray  work,  knowing  as 
I  do  that  so  many  have  magnified  the  difficulties  of  the  trip, 
yet  it  would  be  less  than  human  did  I  not  feel,  and  un- 
just did  I  not  express  the  pride,  and  I  hope  is  pardonable, 
and  openly  acknoAvledge  it,  for  the  kindly  words  and  gen- 
erous actions  of  my  friends  and  neighbors,  and  to  all  such 
I  extend  mv  kindest  and  heartfelt  thanks. 


328  A  Busy  Life 

CHAPTER  LTT. 

TllK    KND. 

Now  that  the  trip  lias  beeu  made,  and  au  account  of 
stock,  so  to  speak,  taken,  I  have  become  surprised  the  work 
Avas  undertaken.  Not  that  I  regret  the  act  any  more  than 
I  regret  the  first  act  of  crossing  the  Plains  in  1852,  which 
to  me  now  appears  to  be  as  incomprehensible  as  the  later 
act.  If  one  questions  the  motive  prompting  and  governing 
the  movements  of  the  eaxly  pioneers,  scarcely  two  of  the 
survivors  Avill  tell  the  same  story,  or  give  the  same  reason. 
This  wonderful  movement  was  brought  vividly  home  to  my 
mind  recently  while  traversing  the  great  fertile  plains  of 
the  Middle  West,  where  most,  of  the  emigrants  came  from. 
Here  was  a  vast  expanse  of  unoccupied  fertile  land,  beau- 
tiful as  ever  mortal  man  looked  upon ;  great  rivers  tra- 
versed this  belt,  to  carry  the  surplus  crops  to  distant  mar- 
kets; smaller  streams  ramify  all  over  the  region  to  multi- 
ply the  opportunities  for  choice  locations  to  one's  heart's 
content,  and  yet  these  Oregon  emigrants  passed  all  these 
(>})portunities  and  boldh^  struck  out  on  the  2.000-mile 
stretch  of  what  was  then  known  as  the  Great  American 
Desert,  and  braved  the  dangers  of  Indian  warfare,  of  star- 
vation, of  sickness — in  a  word,  of  untold  dangers, — to 
reach  the  almost  totally  unknown  Oregon  Country.  Why 
did  they  do  i1  .'  Can  jniy  man  tell?  I  have  been  asked 
thousands  of  times  while  on  this  later  trip  what  prompted 
me  to  make  it?  I  can  not  answer  that  question  satisfac- 
torily to  myself  and  have  come  to  answering  the  question 
by  asking  aiiotlici',  oi-  moi"e  accurately  speaking,  several, 
"Why  do  you  decorate  a  grave?"  or  '"Why  do  we  as  a 
people  mark  our  battlefields?"  or  "Why  do  we  erect  monu- 
ments to  the  heroic  dead  of  >var?"  It  is  the  same  senti- 
ment, foi'  instance,  tliat  promjited  marK'ing  the  Cettysburg 
battlefield. 

Yes.  as  I  recently  I'cturned  home  ovei"  the  Oregon  Shoi't 
Line  Railroad  that  in  many  places  crossed  the  old  Trail 


Ventures  and  Adventures  329 

(with  Dave  and  Dandy  quietly  chewing  their  cud  in  the 
car,  and  myself  supplied  with  all  the  luxuries  of  a  gi'eat 
palatial  overland  train),  and  I  began  vividly  to  realize  the 
wide  expanse  of  country  covered,  and  passed  first  one  and 
then  another  of  the  camping  places,  I  am  led  to  wonder 
if,  after  all,  I  could  have  seen  the  Trail  stretched  out,  as 
like  a  panorama,  as  seen  from  the  car  window,  would  I 
have  undertaken  the  work  ?  I  sometimes  think  not.  We  all 
of  us  at  times  undertake  things  that  look  bigger  after  com- 
pletion, than  in  our  vision  ahead  of  us,  or  in  other  words, 
go  into  ventures  without  fully  counting  the  cost.  Perhaps, 
to  an  extent  this  was  the  case  in  this  venture ;  the  work 
did  look  larger  from  the  car  window  than  from  the  camp. 
Nevertheless,  I  have  no  regrets  to  express  nor  exultation  to 
proclaim.  In  one  sense  the  expedition  has  been  a  failure, 
in  that  as  yet  the  Trail  is  not  sufficiently  marked  for  all 
time  and  for  all  generations  to  come.  We  have  made  a  be- 
ginning, and  let  us  hope  the  end  sought  will  in  the  near 
future  become  an  aeeomplished  fact,  and  not  forget  the 
splendid  response  from  so  many  communities  on  the  way 
in  this,  the  beginning.  And  let  the  reader,  too,  remember 
he  has  an  interest  in  this  work,  a  duty  to  perform  to  aid 
in  building  up  American  citizenship,  for  "  monumenting " 
the  Oregon  Trail  means  more  than  the  mere  preservation  in 
memory  of  that  great  highway ;  it  means  the  building  up  of 
loyalty,  patriotism — of  placing  the  American  thought  upon 
a  higher  plane,  as  well  as  of  teaching  history  in  a  form 
never  to  be  forgotten  and  always  in  view  as  an  object 
lesson. 

The  financing  of  the  expedition  became  at  once  a  most 
difficult  problem.  A  latent  feeling  existed  favoring  the 
work,  but  how  to  utilize  it — concentrate  it  upon  a  plan  that 
would  succeed, — confronted  the  friends  of  the  enterprise. 
Elsewhere  the  reader  will  find  the  reason  given,  why  the 
ox  team  was  chosen  and  the  drive  over  the  old  Trail  under- 
taken. But  there  did  not  exist  a  belief  in  the  minds  of 
many  that  the  "plan  would  work,"  and  so  it  came  about 
that  almost  every  one  refused  to   contribute,   and  many 


330  A  Busy  Life 

tried  to  discourage  the  effort,  sincerely  believing  that  it 
would  result  in  failure. 

I  have  elsewhere  acknowledged  the  liberality  of  II.  C. 
Davis  of  Claqiuito,  Washington,  sending  his  cheek  for 
$50.00  with  which  to  purchase  an  ox.  Irving  Alvord  of 
Kent,  Washington,  contributed  $25.00  for  the  purchase  of 
a  cow.  Ladd  of  Portland  gave  a  cheek  for  $100.00  at  the 
instance  of  George  H.  Hiuies,  who  also  secured  a  like  sum 
from  others — $200.00  in  all.  Then  when  I  lost  the  ox  Twist 
and  telegraphed  to  Henry  Hewitt  of  Tacoma  to  send  me 
two  hundred  dollars,  the  response  came  the  next  day  to  the 
bank  at  Gothenburg,  Nebraska,  to  pay  me  that  amount. 
But,  notwithstanding  the  utmost  effort  and  most  rigid 
economy,  there  did  seem  at  times  that  an  impending  fi- 
nancial failure  was  just  ahead.  In  the  midst  of  the  en- 
thusiasm manifested,  I  felt  the  need  to  put  on  a  bold  front 
and  refuse  contributions  for  financing  the  expedition,  know- 
ing full  well  that  the  cry  of  "graft"  would  be  raised  and 
that  contributions  to  local  comudttees  for  monuments 
would  be  lessened,  if  not  stopped  altogether.  The  outlay 
had  reached  the  $1,400.00  mark  when  I  had  my  first  1,000 
copies  of  the  "Ox  Team"  printed.  Would  the  book  sell,  I 
queried  ?  I  had  written  it  in  camp,  along  the  roadside ; 
in  the  wagon— any  place  and  at  any  time  I  could  snatch 
an  opportunity  or  a  moment  from  other  pressing  work. 
These  were  days  of  anxieties.  Knowing  full  well  the  im- 
perfections of  the  work,  small  wonder  if  I  did,  in  a  fig- 
urative sense,  put  out  the  book  ' '  with  fear  and  trembling, ' ' 
— an  edition  of  1,000  copies.  The  response  came  quick, 
for  the  book  sold  and  the  expedition  was  saved  from  failure 
for  lack  of  funds.  Two  thousand  more  were  printed,  and 
while  these  were  selling,  my  cuts,  plates  and  a  i)art  of  a 
third  reprint  were  all  destroyed  by  fire  in  Chicago,  and  I 
had  to  begin  at  the  bottom.  New  plates  and  new  cuts  were 
ordered,  and  this  time  G,000  copies  were  printed,  and  later 
another  reprint  of  10,000  copies  (19,000  in  all),  with  less 
than  1,000  copies  left  unsold  two  months  after  arriving 
home.     So  the  book  saved  the  day.     Nevertheless,  there 


Venttres  and  Adventures  381 

were  times — until  T  I'eaelied  Philadelphia — when  the  ques- 
tion of  Avhere  the  next  dollai-  of  expense  money  would  come 
from  before  an  imperative  demand  came  for  it  liore  heavily 
on  my  mind.  Two  months  tied  up  in  Indianapolis  during 
the  winter  came  near  deciding  the  (juestion  adversely ; 
then  later,  being  shut  out  from  selling  at  Bufifalo,  Albany 
and  some  other  places,  and  finally  the  tie-up  in  New  York, 
related  elsewhere,  nearly  "broke  the  bank".  Ne^v  York  did 
not  yield  a  rich  harvest  for  selling,  as  T  had  hoped  for,  as 
the  crowds  were  too  great  to  admit  of  my  remaining  long 
in  one  place,  but  wdien  Philadelpha.  was  reached  and  I  was 
assigned  a  place  on  Broad  Street  near  the  city  hall,  the 
crowds  came,  the  sales  ran  up  to  $247.00  in  one  day  and 
$600.00  for  four  days,  the  financial  question  was  settled, 
and  tliere  were  no  more  anxious  moments  about  where  the 
next  dollar  was  to  come  from,  although  the  aggregate  ex- 
penses of  the  expedition  had  reached  the  sum  of  nearly 
eight  thousand  dollars. 

"All  is  well  that  ends  well,"  as  the  old  saying  goes,  and 
so  I  am  rejoiced  to  be  able  to  report  so  favorable  a  termi- 
nation of  the  financial  part  of  the  expedition. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

THE   INTERIM    AND   SECOND   TRIP. 

The  preceding  chapter,  "The  End",  was  written  more 
than  eight  years  ago.  Readers  will  have  noted  the  work 
of  monumenting  the  Oregon  Trail  was  left  unfinished,  that 
only  a  beginning  had  been  made,  that  the  seed  had  been 
planted  from  which  greater  results  might  reasonably  have 
been  expected  to  follow ;  that  though  in  one  sense  the  work 
had  failed,  nevertheless  the  effort  had  been  fully  justified 
by  the  results  obtained. 

A  great  change  has  come  over  the  minds  of  the  American 
people  in  this  brief  period  of  eight  years.  Numerous  or- 
ganizations have  sprung  into  existence  for  the  betterment 


Ventures  and  Adventttres  333 

of  Good  Roads,  for  the  perpetuation  of  "The  Old  Trails" 
and  the  memory  of  those  who  wore  them  wide  and  deep. 
It  is  without  the  province  of  this  writing  to  give  a  history 
of  these  various  movements,  and  in  any  event  space  forbids 
undertaking  the  task.  Suffice  it  to  say  the  widespread 
interest  in  the  good  roads  movement  alone  is  shown  by  the 
introduction  of  sixty  bills  upon  the  subject  during  the 
first  month  of  the  Sixty-fourth  Congress — more  than  double 
that  introduced  in  any  previous  Congress.  But  we  are  now 
more  concerned  to  record  a  brief  liistory  of  what  happened 
to  the  "Overland  Outfit"  since  the  so-called  great  trek 
ended. 

Dave  and  Dandy,  after  a  few  weeks  of  visiting,  were 
put  into  winter  quarters  in  Seattle,  where  the  admonition 
of  the  Israelite  law,  "Thou  shalt  not  muzzle  the  ox  that 
treadeth  out  the  corn",  was  observed  and  both  showed 
more  fat  on  the  ribs  for  the  nearly  three  years  of  the 
strenuous  life  on  the  road.  The  dog  "Jim"  had  likewise 
fattened  up  under  a  less  strenuous  life,  but  did  not  lose 
his  watchful,  faithful  care  of  things  surrounding  him, 
that  had  seemed  to  have  become  a  sort  of  second  nature 
while  on  the  trip.  The  ow^ier  of  the  "outfit",  the  writer, 
soon  became  restless  under  enforced  idleness  and  arranged 
to  participate  in  the  Alaska  Yukon  Exposition  held  in 
Seattle  during  the  summer  of  1909,  for  illustrating  pioneer 
life  in  the  cabin  and  feeding  the  liungry  multitude.  Neither 
enterprise  succeeded  financially  and  the  "multitude"  soon 
ate  him  out  of  "house  and  home",  demonstrating  he  had 
missed  his  calling  by  the  disappearance  of  his  accumula 
tion,  leaving  him  the  experience  only,  to  be  vividly  felt, 
though  mysterious  as  the  unseen  air.  To  "lie  down"  and 
give  up,  to  me  was  unthinkable.  I  had  contemplated  a 
second  trip  over  the  Trail  to  add  to  what  had  been  done 
even  if  it  was  impossible  to  "finish  up",  but  winter  was 
approaching  and  so  a  trip  to  the  sunny  climate  of  Cal- 
ifornia was  made  to  remain  until  the  winter  1909-10  had 
passed  into  history. 

jMareh  16,  1910,  the  start  was  made  for  a  second  trip 


334  A  Bury  Life 

over  the  old  Trail  from  The  Dalles.  Oregon.  "Dave"  by 
this  time  bad  become  a  "seasoned  ox"  thontrh  bad  not  yet 
worked  out  of  bim  the  nnrnly  meanness  tbat  seemed  to 
elinis:  to  liim  almost  to  the  last.  "Dandy"  was  not  a  wbit 
behind  him  as  an  ox  and  kept  bis  good  natnre  for  the 
whole  ti'ip  before  bim  (wbieli  lasted  nearly  two  years)  and 
to  the  end  of  his  life. 

On  this  trip  no  effort  was  made  to  erect  monuments, 
but  more  special  attention  paid  toward  locating  the  Trail. 
Tracings  of  the  township  survey  through  which  the  Trail 
was  known  to  run  were  obtained  at  the  state  capitals  at 
Boise.  Idaho;  Cheyenne,  Wyoming;  Lincoln,  Nebraska; 
and  Topeka,  Kansas.  The  United  States  deputy  suiweyors 
of  public  lands  are  instructed  to  note  all  roads  or  trails 
crossing  section  or  township  lines.  Here  came  "confusion 
worse  confounded"  by  the  numerous  notations,  some  ap- 
pearing on  several  section  lines  in  succession,  others  on 
one  line  and  then  not  again  for  many  miles  and,  of  course, 
it  "W'as  not  known  by  the  deputies  which  was  the  Oregon 
Trail,  or  which  was  a  later  road  or  which  was  simply  an 
old  buffalo  trail,  and  later  followed  by  the  Indians. 

If  we  could  pick  up  a  known  point  of  the  Oregon  Trail 
noted  on  a  section  line  crossing  and  search  for  another 
even  if  many  miles  distant  and  find  it  and  get  the  general 
direction,  I  don't  recall  a  single  failure  to  locate  the  inter- 
vening points.  This,  however,  did  not  always  result  in 
finding  the  visible  marks  on  the  ground,  but  the  memory 
of  the  old  settlers  would  come  in  or  an  Indian  might  re- 
member, and  then  sometimes  we  would  stumble  on  it  before 
we  knew  where  the  mysterious  track  lay.  Once  I  remember 
finding  two  rods  in  length  of  the  "old  trough"  in  a  fence 
road  crossing,  where  the  traces  in  fields  on  bolli  sides  had 
been  cultivated,  the  road  graded,  and  only  this  little  si)()t 
left  undisturbed.  Othei'  places  out  on  the  plains  were  left 
undisturbed  by  improvements.  Nature  had  come  in  to 
it  in  parts  and  obliterated  the  marks.  Then  again  at  other 
places  the  marks  remained  so  plain  one  might  almost  say 
it  could  be  seen  miles  ahead,  both  wide  and  deep — 200  feet 


Ventures  and  Adventures  335 

wide  in  places  where  the  sage  had  been  killed  out,  and  then 
again  in  sandj^  points  so  deep  one  hesitates  to  tell  fearing 
lest  he  may  be  accused  of  exaggerating;  l)ut  here  goes: 
1  did  measure  one  point  fifteen  feet  deep  and  seventy -five 
feet  wide. 

In  the  sage  lands  there  came  points  where  one  might  say 
the  Trail  could  be  identified  by  its  "countenance",  that 
is  by  the  shade  of  color  of  the  sage  growth,  sometimes  only 
a  very  light  shade  at  that,  yet  unmistakable  where  one 
had  become  accustomed  to  see  it,  like  a  familiar  face.  To 
me  this  search  became  more  and  more  interesting,  and  I 
may  say  fascinating,  and  will  remain  a  pleasant  memory 
as  long  as  I  live. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  give  a  detailed  account  of  this 
second  trip  beginning  at  The  Dalles,  Oregon,  March  16, 
1910,  and  ending  at  Puyallup,  Washington,  August  26, 
1912,  twenty-nine  months  and  ten  days,  but  only  refer 
briefly,  very  briefly,  to  some  experiences,  a  passing  notice 
only. 

At  San  Antonio,  Texas,  we  camped  in  the  Alamo,  adjoin- 
ing to  that  historic  spot  where  David  Crocket  was  killed. 
At  Chicago  the  crowds  "jostled"  us  almost  like  the  expe- 
rience in  New^  York  three  years  before.  I  crossed  over  the 
Loop  Fork  of  Platte  R-iver,  three-quarters  of  a  mile  wide, 
in  the  wagon  box  under  a  moving  picture  camera  to  illus- 
trate the  ways  of  the  pioneers  of  the  long  ago.  "We  en- 
countered a  veritable  cloudburst  in  the  Rocky  Mountains 
in  which  we  very  nearly  lost  the  outfit  in  the  roaring  tor- 
rent that  followed,  and  did  lose  almost  all  of  my  books 
and  other  effects.  Later  Dandy  pulled  off  one  of  his  shoes 
in  the  mountain  road  and  became  so  lame  we  were  com- 
pelled to  abandon  farther  driving,  then  we  shipped  home. 
Then  came  the  great  misfortune  of  losing  Jim  out  of  the 
car,  and  never  got  him  back.  Nevertheless,  I  have  no 
regrets  to  express  and  have  many  pleasant  memories  to 
bear  witness  of  the  trip.  All  in  all  it  was  a  more  strenu- 
ous trip  than  the  drive  to  Washington  and  all  things  con- 
sidei'ed  it  was  prolific  in  results. 


336  A  Busy  Life 

Part  of  the  time  I  was  alone;  but  I  didu't  mind  that 
so  inucii,  except  for  the  extra  work  thrown  upon  me. 

One  more  incident,  this  time  a  pheasant  one: 

One  day  as  I  was  traveling  leisurely  along,  suddenly 
there  appeared  above  the  horizon  veritable  castles — castles 
in  the  air.  It  was  a  mirage.  I  hadn't  seen  one  for  sixty 
years,  but  it  flashed  upon  me  instantly  what  it  was— the 
reflection  of  some  wierd  pile  of  rocks  so  common  on  the 
Plains.  The  shading  changes  constantly,  reminding  me 
of  the  ahiiost  invisible  changes  of  the  northern  lights,  and 
it  so  riveted  my  attention  that  I  forgot  all  else  until  Jim 's 
barking  ahead  of  the  oxen  recalled  me  to  consciousness, 
as  one  might  say,  to  discover  Dave  and  Dandy  had  wan- 
dered off  the  road,  browsing  and  nipping  a  bit  of  grass 
here  and  there.  Jim  knew  something  was  going  wrong  and 
gave  the  alarm.  Verily  the  sagacity  of  the  dog  is  akin 
to  the  intelligence  of  man. 

As  just  recorded,  the  second  trip  was  ended.  I  had 
long  contemplated  contributing  the  outfit  for  the  per- 
petuation of  history.  It  did  not  take  long  to  obtain  an 
agreement  with  the  city  authorities  at  Tacoma  to  take 
the  ownership  over  and  to  provide  a  place  for  them.  Be- 
fore the  whole  agreement  was  consummated  the  State  of 
Washington  assumed  the  responsibility  of  preserving  them 
in  the  State  Historical  Building,  where  by  the  time  this 
wi-iting  is  in  print  the  whole  outfit  will  be  enclosed  in  a 
great  glass  case,  fourteen  feet  by  twenty-eight,  in  one  of 
the  rooms  of  the  new  State  Historical  Building.  The  oxen, 
from  the  hands  of  the  taxidermist,  look  as  natural  as  life, 
while  standing  with  the  yoke  on  in  front  of  the  wagon, 
MS  so  often  seen  when  just  ready  for  a  day's  drive. 

Tlie  wagon,  typically  a  "Prairie  Schooner"  of  "ye 
olden  days"  of  the  pioneers,  with  its  wooden  axle,  the 
linch  pin  and  old-fashioned  "schooner  bed",  weather- 
beaten  and  scarred,  would  still  be  good  foi*  another  trip 
without  showing  wabbling  wheels  or  screeching  axle,  as 
when  plenty  of  tar  had  not  been  used.  Of  this  "screech- 
ing" the  memory  of  pioneei-s  luirk  back  to  the  time  when 


Vkntures  and  Adventures  337 

the  tai'  gave  out  and  the  groaning  inside  the  hub  began 
with  a  voi(!e  comparable  and  as  audible  as  of  a  braying 
donkey,  or  the  sharper  toue  of  the  filing  of  a  saw.  Is  it, 
or  was  it,  worth  while  to  preserve  these  old  relics?  Some 
say  not.  I  think  it  was.  Taxidermists  tell  us,  barring 
accidents  and  if  properly  cared  for,  the  oxen  are  virtually 
indestructible  and  that  a  thousand  years  hence  they  may 
be  seen  in  this  present  form  by  the  generation  then  in- 
habiting the  earth,  who  may  read  a  lesson  as  to  what 
curious  kind  of  people  lived  in  this  the  twentieth  century 
of  the  Christian  era. 

A  map  of  the  old  Trail  nearly  forty  feet  long  has  been 
made  with  painstaking  care,  an  outline  of  which  will  be 
painted  on  the  inside  of  the  glass  case.  Nearly  a  hundred 
and  fift}^  monuments,  or  thereabouts,  have  been  erected 
along  the  old  landmark.  Photographs  of  most  of  these  have 
been  secured  or  eventually  all  will  be.  The  plan  is  to 
number  these  and  display  them  on  the  glass  with  a  corre- 
sponding number  at  the  particular  point  on  the  map  where 
each  belongs.  These  will  doubtless  be  added  to  as  time 
goes  on  to  complete  the  record  of  the  greatest  trail  of  all 
history — where  twenty  thousand  died  in  the  conquering 
of  a  continent,  aside  from  the  unknown  number  that  fell 
by  the  resisting  hand  of  the  native  uncivilized  savages. 
It's  a  pathetic  story  and  but  few,  very  few,  of  the  actors 
are  left  to  tell  the  storey. 

THE  OLD  TRAILS. 

I  do  not  propose  to  write  a  history  of  the  "Old  Trails". 
That  has  been  done  by  painstaking  historians,  though  it 
may  be  truly  said  that  by  no  means  has  the  last  word  been 
written.  There  is,  however,  a  field  that  is  to  be  hoped  will 
soon  be  occupied,  for  the  assembling  of  already  recorded 
facts  in  a  "Child's  History"  in  attractive  form,  to  the 
end  the  younger  generation  as  they  come  on  the  stage  of 
action  may  learn  to  love  the  memory  of  the  pioneers  and 
the  very  tracks  they  trod.  Nothing  will  more  surely  build 
up  a  healthy  patriotism  in  the  breasts  of  generations  to 
23—1958 


338  A  Busy  Life 

follow  than  a  study  of  the  deeds  of  their  forbears  that 
eoii(|uered  the  fair  land  they  inhabit.  Thus  far,  a  brief 
l:istory  has  been  given  of  the  effort  to  erect  granite  monn- 
ments  along  tlie  old  Trail.  This  of  itself  is  a  coniiuendable, 
grand  work,  but  by  no  means  the  last  word.  Simple  sen- 
tinel monuments,  if  we  may  so  designate  them,  have  their 
value,  but  to  be  enduring  should  be  of  utility  that  will 
not  only  serve  as  a  reminded  of  the  past  but  likewise 
attract  the  attention  of  the  greater  number,  the  multitude 
that  will  become  interested  because  of  their  utility  and 
more  willing  to  lend  a  hand  to  their  preservation  after  once 
being  created.  This  is  why  the  pioneers  have  so  persistently 
clung  to  the  design  of  a  highway  alojig  the  lines  of  the 
trails — once  a  highway,  say  they,  let  them  always  be  such 
as  long  as  civilization  continues. 

And  so  an  appeal  was  made  to  Congress  for  renewing 
the  memory  of  the  "Old  Trails"  by  establishing  a  national 
highway  from  coast  to  coast,  to  be  known  as  "Pioneer 
Way". 

PIONEER  WAY. 

64th  Congress,  First  Session. — H.  R.  9137. 

IN  THE  HOUSE   OF  REPRESENTATIVES. 

January  15,  1916. 

Mr.  Humphrey  of  Washington  introduced  the  following 
bill ;  which  was  referred  to  the  Committee  on  Military 
Affairs  and  ordered  to  be  printed. 

A  BILL 

V'o  siirvcy  and  locale  ii  iniUlurii  and  pout  road  fraiii   yaiiil   Liniis. 
Jifi.ssoiiri,  to  Olympia,   Washington. 

Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  Hou.se  of  Representatives  of 
the  United  States  of  Anioi'ica  in  Congress  assembled.  Iliat  tlie 
Seerebir.v  of  War  be,  and  is  lierel).v,  directe<l.  to  appoint  a  l)();ir(l  i)\' 
two  menil)ers,  one  of  thoni  l)eing  a  United  States  Army  engiinn'r 
and  the  otlier  a  civilian,  to  make  a  i)reliniinary  survey  for  a  mil- 
itary and  ])ost  bii::hway  from  Saint  TiOnis,  INIissouri,  to  Olympia. 
WasIiiuj;ton.  said  nnlilary  liiixlnvay  to  follow  the  following  route 
as  near  as  may  he  : 


Ventures  and  Adventures  330 

From  Saiut  Louis  to  Kansas  City,  Missouri,  following  as  near 
as  may  be  the  c;enoral  route  of  what  is  commonly  known  as  the 
"Old  Trail."  From  Kansas  Oity,  following  the  joint  Santa  Fe 
and  Oregon  trails  for  about  forty  miles  to  the  city  of  Gardner, 
Kansas:  thence  following  the  general  route  of  the  Oregon  Trail 
to  Topeka,  Kansas,  and  from  Topeka  thence  to  tlie  State  line  of 
Nebraslia  ;  thence,  following  said  trail,  to  the  Platte  River,  and 
thence  along  the  most  practical  route  near  the  right  bank  of  the 
said  Platte  River  to  a  point  where,  in  the  judgment  of  said 
board,  the.v  may  decide  as  to  the  best  point  to  cross  said  river, 
said  crossing  to  be  below  or  at  the  junction  of  the  north  and 
south  forks  of  said  river;  thence,  as  near  as  may  be,  along  the 
left  river  bank  of  said  North  I'latte  River  to  the  State  line  of 
Wyoming ;  thence  by  the  best  general  route  to  a  jioint  where  the 
Old  Trail  diverges  fi'om  said  river  to  the  left  bank  of  the  Sweet- 
water River  near  the  landmark  known  as  Independence  Rock; 
thence  up  Sweetwater  River  to  a  point  where  said  Old  Trail  leaves 
said  river  and  ascends  to  the  sununit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  in 
the  South  Pass,  and  thence  to  the  near-by  point  known  as  Pacific 
Si>rings ;  thence  to  Bear  River  Valley  and  the  State  line  of  Idaho ; 
tlience  down  said  valley  to  Soda  Springs  and  to  Pocatello,  Idaho; 
thence  to  American  Falls.  Idaho,  and  to  tlie  best  crossing  of  the 
Snalve  River ;  thence  to  and  down  the  Boise  Valley  to  Boise  City, 
Idaho ;  thence  to  recrossing  of  Snake  River  and  to  Huntington  in 
the  State  of  Oregon;  thence  to  La  Grande,  Oregon;  thence  over 
the  Blue  Mountains  to  tlie  city  of  The  Dalles,  Oregon;  thence 
throvigh  the  C<iluml)ia  River  Gap  to  Vancouver  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Columliia  River  in  the  State  of  Wasliington ;  thence  to  tlie 
city  of  Olymivia,  Washington;  following  generally  the  Old  Oregon 
Trail  and  other  trails  followed  by  the  pioneers  in  going  from 
Saint  Louis  to  Puget  Somid.  utilizing,  wherever  practicable,  roads 
and  highways  already  existing. 

Sec.  2.  That  said  board  shall  report  as  to  the  cost,  tlie  loca- 
tion of  said  liighway.  and  the  character  of  construction  that  they 
deem  advisable  for  such  highway. 

Sec.  3.  That  said  board  shall  also  take  up  with  the  State  au- 
thorities in  the  States  through  which  the  said  road  shall  pass  and 
I'eport  what  co-operation  can  be  sec-ured  from  such  States  in  the 
construction  and  maintenance  of  such  road. 

Sec.  4.  That  the  board  shall  also  report  on  the  advisability  of 
employing  the  Unite<l  States  Army  in  the  construction  of  any 
portion  of  said  road. 

Sec.  5.     Tliat  the  name  of  said  road  shall  be  "Pioneer  Wa.v." 

Sec.  6.  That  the  sum  of  $7r»,(XlO.  or  so  mucli  thereof  as  may 
be  necessary,  be,  and  the  same  is  hereby,  appropriated  out  of  any 
money  in  the  treasury  not  otherwise  appro]iriated,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  defraying  the  expense  in  connection  with  such  survey. 


340  A  Busy  Life 

"At  the  hearing  before  the  House  Committee  on  IMilitary 
Affairs,  H.  R.  9137,  A  Bill  'To  survey  and  locate  a 
^lilitary  and  Post  Road  from  Saint  Louis,  Missouri,  to 
Olympia,  Washington, '  Ezra  Meeker,  of  Seattle,  Wash- 
ington, was  called  before  the  Committee  and  made  an  oral 
plea  favoring  the  passage  of  the  bill  and  filed  a  statement, 
a  copy  of  which  appears  beloM'^": 

Tlie  bill  before  you  authorizing  the  locating  ami  survey  of  a 
great  National  Higliway  to  be  known  as  "I'ioneer  Way,"  as  a 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  the  pioneers,  has  a  deeper  significance 
than  that  of  sentiment,  though  fully  justified  from  that  motive 
alone. 

It  is  well  to  remember  that  the  possession  of  the  Oregon  coun- 
try hung  in  the  balance  for  many  years ;  that  a  number  of  our 
statesmen  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  including  Jefferson  himself, 
did  not  believe  we  sliould  attempt  to  incorporate  this  vast  terri- 
tory, the  Oregon  country,  as  a  part  of  the  TTnited  States,  Jeffer- 
son even  going  so  far  as  advocating  an  independent  government 
in  that,  to  him  then,  land  of  mystery. 

Encouraged  b,v  these  differences  of  opinion  among  our  own 
people  an'd  prompted  by  the  hunger  for  territorial  aggrandizement 
and  likewise  spurred  to  action  by  tiie  rich  harvest  of  furs  that 
poured  millions  of  pounds  sterling  into  the  coffers  of  the  London 
company,  knovm  as  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  the  British  gov- 
eniiiient  tenaciously  held  its  grip  on  the  comitry  and  refused  to 
give  it  up  until  the  pioneers,  the  homebuilders,  boldly  took  pos- 
session, refusetl  any  sort  of  a  compromise  and  presenteil  the  alter- 
native of  war  or  to  be  left  in  peaceable  possession  of  their  homes. 
It  is  simply  a  record  of  history  that  this  vanguard  of  bold,  great 
men  and  women  hastened  the  final  settlement  of  the  contest  and 
it  is  believed  by  many  to  have  been  the  determining  factor  that 
compelled  the  Bi-itish  to  withdraw. 

It  was  a  great  event  in  tlie  history  of  the  United  States,  in 
fact  of  the  world's  history,  as  otherwise  the  "Stony  Mountains," 
as  Jefferson  advocated,  would  have  been  the  western  limits  of 
the  United  States,  and  it  requires  no  stretch  of  the  imagination  to 
discern  the  far-reaching  I'osnlts  that  would  have  followcnl. 

Althougli  as  T  have  said,  justified  in  undertaking  this  great 
work  from  sentiment  alone,  there  are  other  potent  factors  that  to 
some  may  seem  to  lie  of  greater  importance  and  to  wliich  I  wish 
to  call  your  attention. 

The  last  decade  has  wronght  great  changes  in  world  affairs  by 
the  numerous  discoveries  and  improvements;  not  the  least  of  these 
is  the  wonderful  advance  in  the  use  of  the  "trackless"  ear  now 
progressing  so  rapidly.     I'ardon  me  for  saying  that  in  my  belief 


Ventt^res;  and  Adventures  341 

(hat  ;iny  of  you  geutlemen  that  may  live  to  be  of  my  i)reseiit  age 
will  see  a  far  greater  improvement  than  has  already  been  made — 
one  that  staggers  the  imagination  to  grasp. 

Having  been  born  before  the  advent  of  railroads  in  the  United 
States  (1830)  ;  witnessing  the  strides  in  civilization  made  possi- 
ble by  this  great  factor.  I  can  truly  say  that  I  believe  there  is  a 
far  greater  impending  change  before  ,vou  from  the  introduction  of 
the  tracldess  car  than  has  follow eti  the  rail  car.  This  one  feature 
alone,  the  government  ownership  (State  or  National)  of  the  road 
bed  with  inivate  ownership  of  the  car  will  foster  enterprise,  build 
up  character,  i>romote  independence  of  spirit,  change  the  tide  of 
people  from  the  cities  "back  to  the  farm",  now  so  im])ortant  to 
the  continued  welfare  of  the  nation.  The  tremendous  effect  upon 
the  development  of  the  seven  States,  through  which  this  proposed 
highway  will  pass,  can  not  fail  to  sen-e  as  a  great  object  lesson 
and  encourage  other  great  interstate  highways  so  necessary  to  the 
conunercial  development  of  the  country  in  time  of  peace  and  pre- 
paredness for  defense  in  time  of  war. 

As  to  the  latter,  preparedness  for  war,  I  will  speak  presently, 
but  just  now  wish  to  call  your  attention  to  the  influence  upon  the 
material  developments  of  the  country,  which  in  fact  is  a  measure 
of  preparedness  for  defense  or  war.  This  measure,  if  you  will 
notice,  provides  for  state  co-operation  in  the  building  and  mainte- 
nance of  this  thoroughfare.  This  feature  shouM  not  be  lost  sight 
of.  It  is  important,  of  vital  importance  may  I  not  say.  If  a 
given  state  will  not  join,  the  national  government  nevertheless 
should  build  the  road  and  restrict  its  use  to  military  and  pastal 
service,  until  such  times  as  the  state  would  enter  into  an  equitable 
agreement  as  to  its  cost  and  upkeep  (which  would  not  I>e  for  long), 
for  commercial  use  as  well  as  for  military  and  postal  purposes. 

Now,  as  to  preparedness  for  defense  or  for  war  to  follow  the 
building  of  this  great  trunk  line,  military  highway  over  the  Oregon 
Trail  which  would  soon  be  followed  east  by  the  extension  on  the 
old  Cumberland  road  as  such  to  Washington  and,  as  originally,  to 
Philadeliihia.  thus  ci'eating  the  Avorld's  greatest  thoroughfare,  is 
so  patent,  we  need  not  occupy  your  time  to  discuss,  except  as  to 
the  general  princijiles  of  such  a  measure.  We  can  readily  see 
how  a  small  army  may  become  more  formidable  than  a  larger  one 
where  the  means  are  at  hand  for  speedy  mobilization.  The  great 
liattle  of  the  ]\Iarne.  that  saved  Paris  from  the  horrors  of  a  siege 
and  probalile  destruction,  was  won  by  the  French  by  the  sudden 
concentration  of  troops  made  possible  b.v  the  use  of  thousands  of 
automobiles. 

This  object  lesson  should  not  be  lost  sight  of  and  it  should  be 
rememberefl  that  the  road  bed  is  the  final  word;  in  other  words, 
the  usefulness  of  the  automobiles  is  measured  !)y  the  road  condi- 
tion.    It  is  without  the  province  of  this  discussion  to  advocate  the 


842  A  Busy  Life 

monsiircs,  that  is  the  extent  of  preparedness  this  nation  sliouhl 
iiiidertake.  Tliere  are  millions  of  honest  eitizens  who  bi'lieve 
Ihere  is  iiu  danger  of  an  attack  from  a  foreij^n  foe  and  lieufe  no 
measure  of  prepai'edness  is  necessary,  fornettin.ii  that  as  far  back 
as  history  records  rim.  there  has  l)een  war.  wars  of  conquest, 
relifjious  wars,  wars  from  jealousies  or  towering  ambitions,  from 
causes  so  numerous,  we  tire  to  recite  them  and  that  what  has  liap- 
l>ened  in  the  history  of  the  thousands  of  years  that  liave  passed, 
will  happen  in  the  cycle  of  time  in  tlie  future. 

Whatever  may  be  the  difference  of  opinion  as  to  what  measure 
of  defense  we  adopt,  wdiether  it  shall  be  a  large  army  or  a  large 
navy,  there  should  be  none  as  to  this  proposed  measure  coupled 
as  it  is  with  such  other  manifest  benefits  to  follow,  alone  sufhcieiit 
to  wan-ant  tlie  undertaking.  1  have  been  witness  in  my  short 
si)an  of  life  of  S5  years  to  four  wars  this  nation  has  lieen  engaged 
in.  all  in  measure  without  preparedness  and  all  iu  consequence 
resulting  in  frightful  loss.  We  can't  forget  the  battle  of  Bladeus- 
burg.  where  over  8.000  raw  troops,  unprepared,  gave  way  before 
4.0<)(»  trained  that  marched  to  Washington  and  burned  the  Capitol 
and  inflicted  a  liumiliation  that  rancors  to  this  day  in  the  breast 
of  any  American  citizen  with  red  blood  in  his  veins. 

Shall  we  invite  a  like  humiliation  for  the  future?  I  say  nay. 
nay,  and  bear  with  me  if  I  repeat  again,  nay,  nay.  I  feel  deeply 
the  solemnity  of  this  duty  that  rests  in  your  hands  and  pardon 
me  if  I  do  speak  witli  deep  feeling. 

Mind  you,  I  am  addressing  you  as  to  this  itarticular  feature  of 
pre]  la  redness. 

Many  of  you  gentlemen  will  doubtless  remember  that  pathetic 
address  of  Hon.  Lloyd  George  in  the  House  of  Commons  last  De- 
cember, now  known  the  world  over  as  the  "Too  I.ate"  appeal. 
After  a  million  lives  had  been  lost  and  billions  of  pounds  sterling 
expended,  this  address  fell  lili:e  a  thrmderbolt  upon  the  ears  of 
Parliament.  He  said,  "Too  late,"  empliasizing  tlie  woixls :  "We 
have  been  too  late  in  this,  too  late  in  that,  too  late  in  ai-i"iving 
at  decision,  too  late  in  starting  this  enterprise  or  that  adventvire. 
I^he  footsteps  of  the  Allies  liave  been  dogged  by  the  mocking 
spectre  of  too  late." 

Let  not  "Too  late"  be  inscribed  on  the  portals  of  our  workshop. 

It's  a  solemn  warning  this,  that  some  day  will  come  home  in 
disaster  to  this  nation  if  we  fail  to  take  hee<l  and  ])rofit  by  the 
lessons  fi*om  the  experience  of  others  as  taught  in  these  outsjioken 
words  of  agony,  sh.all  we  not  say.  almost  presaging  the  downfall 
of  a  great  nation. 

I  am  not  an  alarmlsl,  not  ;i  iicssimist .  liut.  i^cntlenuMi.  we 
should  not  ignoi'c  i>lain  facts.  There  is  a  distui'bing  (piestion  on 
the  Pacitic  0)ast  that  we  should  heed.  A  vast  population  to  th(> 
West  is  clanioriim  to  enter  the  United    Staf(>s  whom   we  arc   uii- 


Ventures  and  Adventures  343 

willinj?  to  reoeivo  as  citizeus  and  who  would  refuse  to  accept 
( itizenship. 

You  will  reiiieinlier  tlie  tension  of  but  a  few  mouths  ago. 
Some  day  the  bainls  of  friendsliip  will  suap  and  light  the  flames 
of  war.  Do  you  renieniber  thi>  utter  failure — breakdown  shall  I 
not  say — of  tlie  railroads  duriui;  the  war  with  Spain?  What  if 
this  condition  covered  o.0<!0  miles  instead  of  but  a  few  hundred? 
With  bridges  destroyed  by  spies,  trains  derailed,  railroads  block- 
atled,  it  requires  no  stretch  of  the  imagination  to  know  what 
would  happeu.  Provide  this  roadbed,  and  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  trackless  cars  would  ajipear  on  the  scene  and  sujiply  transpor- 
tation for  the  speetly  transfer  of  troops  and  as  like  in  the  battle 
of  the  Marne  referred  to.  would  decitle  the  fortune  of  the  day. 

Bear  with  me  for  a  moment  longer,  please.  I  may  have  spoken 
with  too  much  zeal,  too  nuich  earnestness,  too  much  feeling,  but 
I  look  upon  the  action  to  be  taken  Ijy  this  committee  as  of  great 
importance.  We  pioneei's  yearn  to  have  this  work  begun  l)ecaiLse 
of  the  intense  desire  to  peiiietuate  the  memory  of  the  past  and 
believe  it  of  great  importance  to  the  rising  generation  in  implanting 
this  memory  in  the  breasts  of  the  future  rulers  of  the  nation  and 
of  sowing  the  seeds  of  patriotism,  but  of  transceudant  impor- 
tance, as  you  will  percei\e  from  what  I  have  said,  is  the  begin- 
ning of  tliis  work  and  carrying  it  to  a  speedy  finish,  as  a  measure 
of  preparedness  for  defense  or  war.  Let  not  the  responsibility 
of  "Too  late"'  rest  upon  your  shoulders,  but  speedily  pass  this  bill 
to  the  end  a  report  may  reach  this  Congress  in  time  for  action 
before  the  year  ends. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

CONQUEST   OP   THE   OREGON    COUNRTY.* 

I  will  not  delay  you  long  with  a  story  relating  the  be- 
ginning of  the  eon(|uest  of  the  Oregon  country  through 
American  valor.  The  first  period,  that  of  the  exploration, 
can  be  told  in  very  few  words.  Robert  Gray,  captain  of 
the  ship  "Columbia",  on  May  7,  1792,  discovered  Grays 
Harbor,  and  on  May  11th,  entered  the  mouth  of  a  great 
river  and  named  it  "Columbia"  after  the  name  of  his 
ship. 

The  next  great  event  to  be  recorded  is  the  time  w^hen 
Lewis  and  Clark  "on  the  7th  of  November,  1805,  heard 

*Note — An  address  by  Ezra  Meeker  before  Washington  State  Historical  Society,  Ta- 
coma,  Washington,  1912. 


344  A  Busy  Life 

the  breakers  roar,  and  saw,  spreading  and  rolling  before 
them,  the  waves  of  the  western  ocean,  'the  object  of  our 
lalxn-s,  the  reward  of  our  anxieties',''  as  they  recorded  in 
tliat  wonderful  journal  of  that  woudei-ful  trip. 

It  is  permissible  to  note  that  sixteen  years  before  Gray 
sailed  into  the  mouth  of  the  great  river,  Jonathan  Carver, 
an  American  explorer,  on  the  7th  of  December,  1776,  sixty 
miles  above  St.  Anthony  Falls,  from  a  point  which  we 
may  very  properly  call  the  heart  of  the  continent,  wrote 
these  immortal  words:  "The  four  most  capital  rivers  on 
the  continent  of  North  America,  viz.,  the  St.  Lawrence, 
the  Mississippi,  the  River  Bourbon,  and  the  Oregon,  or 
the  River  of  the  West,  have  their  sources  in  the  same  neigh- 
borhood". While  Carver  did  not  explore  the  river,  or 
any  of  its  tributaries,  yet  with  wonderful  vision  foretold 
of  its  existence,  and  gave  it  a  name,  the  "Oregon",  the  first 
instance  that  word  was  written.  It  is  beyond  the  wit  of 
man  to  divine  where  the  word  came  from  other  than  from 
tlie  imaginative  brain  of  that  noted  traveler. 

The  second  period,  that  of  exploitation,  began  with  the 
entrance  of  the  ship  "Tonquin"  into  the  mouth  of  the 
Columbia  on  the  25th  of  March,  1811,  sent  out  by  John 
Jacob  Astor  as  "planned  for  a  brilliant  trading  project". 
The  tragic  fate  of  the  ship  in  more  northern  waters  is  told 
liy  an  Indian,  of  the  massacre  of  the  whole  ship's  crew 
save  one  who,  wounded,  hnd  retreated  to  the  hold  of  the 
ship  near  the  magazine  and  blew  up  the  ship  and  avenged 
the  death  of  his  comrades  by  destroying  ten  Indians  to 
every  white  man  of  the  crew  that  had  been  sacrificed. 

Next  on  the  scene  came  the  Hunt  party  overland,  to 
arrive  at  Astoria  February  15,  1812.  The  suffering  of 
tbis  party,  the  danger  incurred,  witli  the  risks  taken,  far 
and  away  eclipse  any  feat  of  record  in  exploration  of  the 
Oregon  country. 

Following  close  upon  the  heels  of  their  arrival  came 
Astor 's  second  ship,  "The  Beaver",  to  cross  the  bar  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  River  May  10,  1812.  The 
American  flag  tliat  luul  floated  peacefully  over  the  heads 


Venturer  and  Adventures  345 

of  the  little  colony  at  Astoria  foi*  fourteen  months  was 
doomed,  a  year  and  seven  months  later,  to  the  humiliation 
of  being  hauled  down  to  make  Avay  for  the  British  flag, 
as  a  result  of  the  fortunes  of  war,  and  was  not  restored 
until  October  6,  1818.  As  a  result  of  the  joint  occupancy, 
treaty  of  October  20,  1818,  the  British  continued  to  exploit 
the  country  and  built  Fort  Vancouver  in  1824,  and  re- 
mained in  full  control  of  all  avenues  of  trade  until  chal- 
lenged by  the  traders  coming  from  the  east,  with  St.  Louis 
the  head  center. 

In  1822  General  William  H.  Ashley's  company  sent  out 
"bands  of  trappers  to  form  camps  in  the  best  beaver  dis- 
tricts, and  trap  out  the  streams  one  after  another",  much 
like  the  gold  seekers  who  would  wash  out  the  gold  of  the 
different  streams  in  succession.  One  of  these  Ashley  parties 
discovered  the  South  Pass  (1822)  and  invaded  the  Oregon 
country,  and  a  commercial  war  began  and  continued  until 
the  final  overthrow  of  the  British  twenty-four  years  later. 

In  1830  (the  year  I  was  born)  the  first  v/agon  crossed 
the  summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  through  the  South 
Pass,  that  wonderful  opening  in  the  range,  easy  of  access 
from  either  slope,  and  where  the  way  is  as  safe,  with  no 
more  obstacles  to  overcome  than  in  a  drive  twenty  miles 
south  of  Tacoma.  William  L.  Sublette,  reported  to  be  the 
first  man  to  invade  the  Oregon  country  through  the  South 
Pass  for  trapping,  still  lives,  or  did  a  year  ago,  at  "Elk 
Mountain",  a  small  place  in  Wyoming,  high  up  on  the 
west  slope  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  He  must  be  a  very 
old  man,  but  I  am  told  is  yet  quite  active. 

I  followed  his  "cut-off"  west  from  the  Big  Sandy  to 
Bear  River,  in  the  year  1852,  and  can  testify  it  was  then 
a  hard  road  to  travel.  On  miy  recent  trip  (1906)  I  avoided 
this  short  cut  and  followed  more  nearly  the  ti-ail  of  1843 
further  south,  which  led  to  near  Fort  Badger,  below  the 
forty-second  parallel  of  latitude,  and  then  Mexican  terri- 
tory. 

We  have  now  arrived  at  a  period  of  impending  change 
when  the  eccentric   Bonneville  drove  through  the   South 


846  A  Busy  Life 

Pass  (1832),  closely  followed  by  that  adventurous  Bos- 
Ionian,  Nathaniel  J.  Wythe.  Both  lost  everything  they 
liad  in  these  ventures,  but  they  pointed  the  way.  followed 
;i  little  later  by  countless  thousands  of  home  builders  to 
the  Oregon  country.  A  part  of  the  AVythe  party  remained 
and  became  the  first  American  home  l)uilders  in  the  Oregon 
countrJ^ 

We  are  now  arrived  at  what  we  may  call  the  third  period. 
The  four  Flathead  or  Nez  Perces  Indians,  shall  we  not  call 
them  Pilgrims,  had  crossed  over  to  St.  Louis  (1832)  in 
search  of  the  "White  Man's  Book  of  Heaven".  General 
Clark,  of  Lewis  and  Clark  fame,  then  Indian  agent  for 
the  West,  had  received  them  kindly,  and  introduced  them 
widely  to  the  i-eligious  world  and  elsewhere.  Their  advent 
kindled  a  flame  of  missionary  zeal  not  often  excelled,  with 
the  result  that  in  1834  the  Methodists  sent  Jason  Lee  and 
others,  and  in  1835  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners 
for  Foreign  Missions,  representing  the  Presbyterian  and 
Congregationalists,  sent  Dr.  Samuel  Parker  and  Marcus 
Whitman  as  missionaries  to  the  Oregon  country.  Parker 
completed  the  trip  during  the  year  of  1835,  but  Whitman 
turned  back  at  the  rendezvous  on  Green  River,  west  of 
the  crest  of  the  Rock  IMountains,  and  retraced  his  trail  to 
his  home  for  the  purpose  of  securing  more  aid  to  occupy 
the  field,  and  the  following  year  with  his  young  wife,  in 
company  with  H.  H.  Spaulding  and  wife,  crossed  over  to 
Vancouver,  where  the  party  arrived  in  September,  1836. 
These  tAvo  were  the  first  ladies  to  pass  over  the  Oregon 
Trail  and  deserve  special  mention  here,  not  so  much  for 
this  distinction  as  for  their  piety,  coupled  wdth  heroism 
and  courage,  not  popularly  expected  of  their  sex.  I  will 
venture  to  digress  to  pay  a  just  tribute  to  the  pioneer 
ladies,  so  often,  and  I  may  say  so  generally,  misunder- 
stood. Students  of  history  are  well  aware  that,  but  for 
tlie  fii-ni  support  of  the  Pilgrim  mothei-s,  the  lot  of  the 
Pilgi'ims  that  landed  on  Plymouth  Rock  would  have  been 
infinitely  harder.  I  have  often  thought  that  in  thinking 
and  speaking  of  the  Pilgrims  we  ought  always  to  speak  of 


Vknturks  and  Adventures  347 

tlie  Pilgrim  Jailiurs  aud  luolliui-s.  It  has  I'allcn  to  my  lol 
to  obscfvd  at  close  ra!ig'(»  tlic  heroism  of  l*ioiiocr  molhors, 
and  I  wish  to  testify  that,  under  stress  of  suffering  or 
danger,  they  always  became  a  bulwark  of  encouragement 
and  support. 

Let  me  relate  one  instance.  Meeting  one  day  nine 
wagons  on  the  Oregon  Trail  i-eturning,  we  discovered  the 
teams  were  all  driven  by  the  women  and,  children — the  men 
v/ere  all  dead.  This  was  on  the  trail  in  the  Platte  Valley 
after  that  dreadful  scourge  of  cholera  had  struck  the 
columns. 

While  the  missionaries  were  but  few  in  number,  their  in- 
fluence became  widespread,  and  especially  helpful  to  the 
later  inrush  of  home  builders,  and  even  if  not  successful 
in  saving  men's  souls,  they  were  instrumental  in  saving 
men's  lives,  and  deserve  a  tender  spot  in  our  hearts.  I 
would  not  have  you  infer  from  the  remark  about  "saving 
men's  souls"  that  I  wished  to  belittle  the  efforts  of  those 
sincere  men,  the  missionaries.  I  simply  record  a  fact  ac- 
knowledged by  the  missionaries  themselves. 

We  now  approach  the  fourth  period,  that  of  the  home- 
builders.  It  is  hardly  fair  to  say  this  class  exploited  the 
country,  developed  is  the  better  Avord.  We  have,  in  fact, 
come  to  the  turning  point  as  to  the  future  of  the  country. 
If  the  English  had  been  able  to  throw  a  strong  colony  into 
the  Oregon  country,  no  man  can  tell  what  the  final  result 
would  have  been.  England  was  arrogant,  and  some  at 
least,  of  her  statesmen  held  the  United  States  in  contempt, 
and  would  have  welcomed  a  war  over  the  Oregon  country. 
The  joint  occui)ancy  treaty  (fortunate  for  us)  disarmed 
the  war  spirit,  for  did  they  not  have  control  of  the  trade 
of  the  country?  And  could  they  not  afford  to  wait? —  for- 
getting that  exploiting  and  developing  a  country  are  radi- 
cally different. 

When  the  American  home  builders  began  to  arrive  in 
great  numbers  it  became  impossible  to  again  renew  the  pact 
for  joint  occupancy,  and  the  treaty  of  1846  quickly  fol- 
lowed.   As  I  have  said,  a  few  of  the  Wythe  party  of  1838 


348  A  Bttsy  Life 

remained  and  jofncd  the  settlcirs'  ecilony  already  begun  l>y 
discharged  Hudson  Bay  servants,  and  trappers  who  had 
tired  of  nomadic  life,  less  than  a  hiindred  all  told,  at  tiie 
end  of  the  year  1889.  Tn  May,  1840,  the  siup  "Lusanne" 
arrived,  ])ringing  fifty  men,  women  and  children,  as  a  re- 
inforcement to  the  Methodist  Mission  at  Champoeg,  but 
who  soon  became  home  builders.  During  the  two  follow- 
ing j^ears,  possibly  a  hundred  more  arrived  direct  from  the 
east,  having  traversed  the  Oregon  Trail  from  the  Missouri 
River. 

All  of  a  sudden  there  came  a  widespread  "Oregon 
fever"  during  the  winter  of  1842-3.  A  measure  knowTi  as 
the  Lynn  bill  had  passed  the  Senate,  granting  land  to  ac- 
tual settlers.  Whitm.an  had  returned  overland  during  the 
winter.  Fremont  had  made  his  first  trip  as  far  as  to  the 
Rock}^  Mountains  and  returned  to  be  commissioned  to  lead 
a  large  exploring  party  to  the  Oregon  country.  The 
"times"  were  not  prosperous,  nor  health  good  in  the  Middle 
West,  and  besides,  an  unrest  had  taken  possession  of  tlie 
minds  of  many  people  on  account  of  the  slaverj^  question. 
The  result  was  that  more  than  a  thousand  people  congre- 
gated nearby  what  is  now  Kansas  City,  preparing  to  start 
for  Oregon  as  soon  as  time  and  seasonable  weather  would 
permit;  some  pushed  out  to  Elm  Grove,  west  of  the  Mis- 
souri, and  camped ;  others  passed  on  a  little  farther ;  finally 
a  great  company  was  formed.  cai3tains  appointed,  and  all 
was  to  move  with  precision,  and  order,  and  the  start  was 
made.  But  the  independent  spirit  of  the  frontiersmen 
would  not  brook  control  and  soon  tliei'e  came  a  division  into 
two  parties,  then,  later,  others  broke  away,  until  finally 
but  little  of  the  discipline  was  left,  though  there  continued 
co-operation  in  the  face  of  a  common  danger.  Wliitman 
joined,  or  rather  overtook,  the  main  body  of  the  moving 
cai-avan,  but  he  never  led  it,  or  attempted  to  lead  it.  His 
knowledge  of  the  trail  and  his  counsel  was  helpful.  Tt 
was  upon  Whitman's  advice  that  the  great  venture  was 
made  to  open  a  wagon  road  from  Ft.  Hall  west — over  600 
miles — a  wonderful  feat.     Thus,  nearly  a  thousand  people 


Ventures  and  Adventures  349 

i-eaclied  the  Oregon  country  in  1843,  and  news  >s(;nt  bactk 
tliat  a  wagon  j-oad  luid  been  ()i)ened  the  wliole  length  of 
the  Oregon  Trail. 

Life  was  at  once  infused  into  the  dormant  body  of  the 
Provisional  Government  that  had  been  formed,  and  the 
absolute  rule  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  ended. 

During  the  year  1844,  nearly  fifteen  hundred  immigrants 
reached  Oregon  and  yet,  early  in  1845,  the  British  Govern- 
ment refused  to  accej^t  the  thrice  made  offer  of  a  settlement 
of  the  boundary  on  the  49th  parallel,  but  when  3,000  emi- 
grants crossed  over  during  the  year  1845,  and  the  Hudson 
Bay  Company  gave  up  the  contest  by  formally,  on  the  15th 
of  August,  1845,  i^lacing  themselves  under  the  protection 
of  the  Provisional  Government,  then  the  British  Govern- 
ment of  their  owji  accord,  offered  to  accept  the  line  she 
had  so  long  persistently  refused.  The  Ashburtou  Treaty 
speedily  followed,  and  the  Oregon  (juestion  was  settled — 
the  conquest  was  coinplete. 

Of  the  subsequent  migration,  1  cannot  tarry  to  speak  in 
detail.  In  1850,  the  population  of  the  whole  of  the  old 
Oregon  country  was  less  than  15,000.  The  gold  excitemeiit 
had  drawn  large  numbers  to  California,  and  turned  much 
of  the  inunigi'ation  from  the  east  to  that  field.  Not  until 
the  great  wave  of  1852,  when  50,000  people  crossed  the  Mis- 
souri River,  did  Oregon  make  a  new  beginning  in  the  race 
for  population. 

I  had  cast  my  fortune  with  that  throng — a  marching  col- 
umn 500  miles  long — ^and  like  Sherman's  army  marching 
through  Georgia  50,000  strong  at  the  beginning,  but  leav- 
ing 5,000  dead  on  the  way.  At  the  parting  of  the  ways 
at  Bear  River,  many  turned  to  the  south,  yet  leaving  a  great 
throng  to  reach  the  Oregon  country.  And  yet,  when  I 
rowed  my  little  open  boat,  18  feet  long,  into  Commencement 
Bay  on  a  June  day  of  1853,  there  were  less  than  4,000  in- 
habitants in  all  the  territory  within  the  boundary  of  this 
great  State,  and  but  eleven  persons  within  the  borders  of 
the  present  city  of  Tacoma. 

And  now,  my  friends,  will  this  generation  "let  the  dead 


350  A  Busy  Life 

bury  the  dead",  and  let  tlie  memory  of  those  who  made  it 
possible  for  you  to  enjoy  the  blessiiiiis  of  this  great  com- 
monwealth, sink  into  oblivion  !  Or  will  you  join  generously 
to  i)ei-[)etuate  the  memory  of  those  who  have  gone  before, 
to  the  end  that  you  may  profit  by  their  examples  ' 

A  word  now  as  to  this  institution,  "The  Washington 
State  Historical  Society".  It  was  my  fortune  to  be  in  at 
the  beginning.  More  than  twenty  years  have  passed  since 
the  completed  organization  was  formed  by  articles  of  in- 
corporation. Thirty-six  people  participated  in  the  organ- 
ization— six  only  of  the  signers  are  now^  living.  We  are 
admonislied  that  the  generation  of  men  that  made  the  be- 
ginning will  all  soon  have  passed  and  gone  into  history. 
Shall  the  work  thus  begun  langiiish  and  fail  for  lack  of 
support?  The  time  has  arrived  when  there  should  be  an 
emphatic  answer  to  this  question  by  liberal  state  aid  ap- 
propriation. Much  has  already  been  lost  because  of  the 
withholding  of  this  help.  The  harvest  has  been  ripe  all 
these  years  and  many  of  the  precious  relics  have  been  lost 
or  garnered  elsewhere.  Iiemember,  this  is  a  harvest  that 
cannot  be  reproduced.  If  not  gathered  in  time,  it  is  lost 
forever. 

A  case  in  point :  There  is  an  opportunity  now^  to  secure 
a  typical  blockhouse  built  nearly  sixty  years  ago,  one  of 
seventy-five  built  during  the  Indian  war,  all  of  which  will 
disappear  in  a  few  years  if  left  exposed  to  the  elements. 
This  society  ought  to  be  enabled  to  secure  this  relic,*  erect 
it  under  the  shelter  of  a  great  building,  fill  it  with  exhibits, 
and  preserve  the  whole  for  future  generations.  I  mention 
this  as  one  instance  only,  but  the  country  is  rich  in  these 
relics  that  will  become  more  and  more  precious  as  future 
generations  come  on  the  scene  of  action.  This  is  not  some- 
thing we  can  leave  for  future  generations  to  do,  for  then 
it  will  be  too  late;  it  is  NOW  this  work  ought  to  be  prose- 
cuted.    I  will  rcp(!at,  by  stale  did. 

A  word  now  as  to  the  pi-0|)ose(l  iiicmorial  arch  to  the 
Pioiit'ors   to    ])e    ei"(;cted    in    Tacoma,    perhaps   within    less 

*Sinco  h:is  been  seeured  by  the  society. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  351 

than  a  stone's  throw  of  the  home  of  the  society,  to  add 
its  beauty  to  what  is  to  hecome  the  civic  center  of  the 
city,  with  the  magnificent  strncture  of  the  High  School 
building  on  the  one  part ;  the  liome  of  the  Historical  So- 
ciety, may  we  not  hope,  in  as  impressive  architectural  struc- 
ture, near  by  for  another  part;  with  that  wonderful  and 
unique  structure — shall  we  call  it  the  Stadium — as  the 
central  figure  of  attraction,  the  whole  overlooked  by  this 
work  of  art,  this  record  of  history,  as  well  as  a  tribiite  to 
those  Avho  contributed  to  the  conquest  of  the  Oregon  coun- 
try, this  empire  of  which  we  all  are  so  justly  proud. 

It  is  but  little  over  a  hundred  years  since  this  history 
began.  Momentous  changes  have  come  in  our  national  his- 
toiy  within  that  short  period  of  time,  not  the  least  of  which 
is  this  great  conquest,  opening  a  gateway  to  the  great 
"western"  ocean,  thus  winning  of  the  farther  west,  to 
found  a  nation  spanning  tlie  continent  from  ocean  to  ocean, 
destined  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  ■world  powers  of  all 
history. 

As  before  outlined,  the  march  of  events  naturally  di- 
vides into  five  periods.  Provision  is  made  for  five  large 
bronze  tablets,  or  engi'aved  in  granite  on  the  base  of  the 
arch,  upon  which  to  record  a  history  of  the  conquest;  one 
for  a  record  of  the  explorers,  giving  names  and  dates;  a 
second,  a  history  of  the  exploitation  during  fur  gathering 
period,  and  disclosure  of  the  interior ;  a  third  might  recite 
the  efforts  and  achievements  of  the  missionaries,  giving 
names  and  dates;  a  fourth  may  show  the  Oregon  Trail  in 
relief,  and  recite  the  history  of  the  home  builders,  and, 
finally,  a  fifth  should  show  present  day  achievements,  as 
for  instance,  who  founded  the  city  of  Tacoma  and  when, 
and  present  day  population ;  who  founded  Olympia. 
Seattle,  Spokane;  in  a  word,  the  cities  of  the  State,  thus 
reaching  out  to  the  borderland  of  ]iioneer  days. 

The  groups  of  bronze  statues  to  crown  the  arch  will 
naturally  represent  these  different  periods  and  lend  an 
enchanting  scene  the  eye  will  never  tire  viewing.  We  will 
doubtless  hear  some  one,  or  more  than  one,  say  all  this 


352  A  Busy  Life 

can't  be  done.  Seven  years  ago  I  heard  many  say  that  the 
Oregon  Trail  could  not  be  searched  out,  and  found  "with 
an  old  ox  team",  but  it  was  done.  I  did  not  hear  it,  but 
heard  of  it,  that  "the  man  was  crazy  to  go  out  with  such  a 
rig";  "that  the  people  would  lauiih  at  him";  but  they 
didn't  laugh.  Many  came  to  the  dedicatory  services  of 
iiioinunents,  and  stood  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  instead  of 
giving  way  to  mirth.  I  tell  you,  friends,  such  work  as 
here  proposed  reaches  the  hearts  of  men  and  makes  better 
citizens  of  them — makes  them  love  their  country  better, 
their  flag,  their  homes,  their  own  lives,  when  they  par- 
ticipate and  become  conscious  of  having  performed  an  al- 
truistic act;  it  is  farther  reaching  than  we  are  at  first 
thought  willing  to  concede. 

But  1  must  have  done.  I  sincerely  tliank  you  for  tlie 
courtesy  in  extending  this  invitation  to  speak  before  you 
and  for  the  respectful  hearing  accorded  by  the  assembled 
audience. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

PIONEER  LIFE  IN  PI'YALLUP. 

This  account  of  pioneer  life  in  the  Puyallup  would  be 
incomplete  without  looking  closer  into  their  manner  of  liv- 
ing. The  cabins  were  built  under  stress  for  immediate  shel- 
ter, and  so  lacked  completeness  that  otherwise  would  not 
have  been  had  the  builders  had  moi-e  time.  All  the  early 
built  cabins  were  of  logs,  rudely  constructed,  small,  and 
without  floors.  Indeed,  no  lumber  could  at  the  time  be 
obtained,  and  the  pioneers  did  the  best  they  could.  Most 
of  these  cabins  were  burned  during  the  Indian  war.  I  will 
describe  one  built  after  the  war  that  T  am  more  familiar 
with  than  any  other,  as  it  became  my  home  for  twenty-four 
years  and  \hv  remnants  oF  which  are  still  preseiwed  in 
Pioneei'  Park,  Puyallu)).  Jerry  Stilly  took  a  s( [natter's 
right  on  the  (|uai'ter  section  of  land  that  aft(M-wards  became 
my  homestead  and  built  the  first  section,  or  room,  to  which 


Ventures  and  Adventures  353 

I  afterwards  added.  Stilly  did  not  succeed  in  raising  much 
of  a  crop,  in  fact  did  not  stay  lung  enough,  hut  he  did  suc- 
ceed in  after  life  in  raising  a  crop  of  ten  children,  all  yet 
living  I  think  in  the  State,  hut  never  succeeded  in  gather- 
ing much  of  the  world's  goods  around  liim.  In  fact  he 
moved  too  often  to  do  so,  hut  he  did  enrich  his  mind, 
drawn  from  the  best  store  of  literature.  He  was  a  dear 
lover  of  Shakespeare  and  a  close  student  of  the  Bible. 
Gibbon  also  was  one  of  his  favorite  authors.  He  could 
repeat  almost  verbatim  the  twentieth  and  twenty-first  chap- 
ters of  the  "Decline  and  Fall."  not  that  he  had  memorized 
it,  but  had  grasped  the  whole  meaning  from  repeated  read- 
ings of  that  wonderfully  comprehensive  work.  Stilly  was 
a  typical  pioneer,  made  no  pretension  in  dress,  seldom  went 
to  church,  but  was  exemplary  in  his  habits,  though  inclined 
toward  pessiuiism  in  his  later  life.  The  cabin  that  Stilly 
built  was  of  inch  board  walls,  eight  feet  high  and  sixteen 
feet  square  and  covered  with  clapboard,  or  "shakes"  as 
many  designate  them.  Soon  after  coming  into  possession 
of  the  claim  T  built  another  of  same  dimensions,  leaving 
a  space  of  five  feet  between  the  two  for  a  double  fireplace 
ancl  chimney.  These  fireplaces  became  a  source  of  great 
comfort  for  many  a  long  A\dnter  evening,  furnishing  both 
warmth  and  light.  They  w^ere  built  of  float  lava  rock  that 
had  been  belched  from  the  throat  of  the  great  mountain 
(Ranier)  and  brought  to  the  lower  level  by  the  avalanches 
and  later  the  mighty  floods  that  had  inundated  the  valley 
ages  ago.  Tliey  were  so  light  in  weight  that  an  ordinary 
farm  wagon  box  full  was  not  a  heavy  load  and  so  soft  they 
could  be  shaped  with  an  ordinary  chopping  ax  without 
injuring,  except  dulling  the  sharp  edge  just  a  little.  To 
have  fireplaces  with  smooth  faced  stones,  and  a  chimney 
that  did  not  "smoke"  seemed  to  be  the  very  acme  of  ele- 
gance and  comfort.  The  inside  of  the  cabin  was  first  cov- 
ered with  newspapers  and  a  little  later  with  real  wall 
paper  for  warmth,  and  ajipearance  as  well,  and  really  we 
felt  as  proud  of  the  cal)in  home,  "our  home",  as  we  after- 
wards did  of  the  more  pretentious  homestead  described  else 

24—1958 


Ventures  and  Adventures  355 

wlici'c.  Aji  ivy  vine*  plaiitcfl  itexl  to  the  ejitry  way  between 
tlie  two  cabins,  now  neai'ly  fifty  years  old,  wliich  yet  inai'l<s 
tlie  spot,  soon  cliiubed  to  llie  top  of  the  roof  and  .spread 
out,  assuming  the  shape  of  the  roof,  ferreting  out  all  niches 
and  cracks,  and  filially  invaded  the  sitting-room  of  the 
cabin  as  a  cheerful  reminder  of  what  was  above  our  heads. 
The  last  time  I  measured  the  main  stalk  at  the  ground  it 
was  found  to  be  nine  inches  in  diameter ;  overhead,  what 
use  to  be  in  the  loft,  there  are  now  main  branches  as  big 
as  a  man's  arm  with  the  whole  surface  covered  with  a  beau- 
tiful bright  green  mass  of  foliage. 

In  course  of  time  the  land  upon  which  the  cabin  stood 
was  dedicated  by  my  wife  and  myself  as  Pioneer  Park, 
Puyallup,  and  given  over  to  the  care  of  the  city.  The 
cabin  Avails  in  the  lapse  of  years  weakened  and  the  roof 
fell  in.  Temporary  props  held  the  remnants  of  the  ceiling 
in  place,  which  in  turn  supported  the  over-spreading  vine. 
Finally  the  ladies  of  the  now  grown  up  little  city  of  six 
thousand  people  tcok  a  hand,  placed  six  heavy  cement 
columns  to  support  overhead  cement  joists  to  in  turn  sup- 
port the  ivy  vine. 

A  cement  floor,  a  drinking  fountain  in  the  center  of  the 
cabin  floor,  the  ivy  bower,  and  a  few  cement  seats  attest 
the  faithful  efforts  those  lovers  of  the  almost  forgotten 
past  have  made  to  preserve  in  perpetuity  the  identity  of 
the  spot  where  the  first  cabin  of  the  now  pretentious  city 
was  built.  The  last  vestige  of  the  old  decaying  walls  were 
removed  and  placed  overhead,  but  under  the  ivy  vine, 
where  in  the  lapse  of  years  the  roots  of  the  vine  that  have 
taken  firm  hold  of  the  decaying  relics  will  absorb  and  trans- 
mit not  only  the  memory  of  the  cabin  for  all  time  to  come, 
but  the  very  substance  of  the  cabin  will  be  transformed 
into  a  new  life  of  everlasting  green. 

A  stone  tablet  inscribed  "Site  of  Ezra  Meeker's  Cabin 
Home,"  completes  the  record  to  be  read  by  the  many  gen- 
erations to  follow. 

Just  who  is  the  person  that  first  conceived  the  idea  to 

*See  illustration  on  page  247. 


856  A  Busy  Life 

creeL  Lliis  nieiiiorial  is  unkuouji  lu  tlic  aullior.  'J'lic  organ- 
ization known  as  the  Puyallup  Ladios'  Club  assumed  the 
responsibility  and  carried  the  work  to  completion.  A  l(>ttor 
from  the  ['resident  I'eaehed  me  at  Elm  Creek,  Neb.,  while 
on  the  last  drive  with  the  ox  team  liomeward  bound,  in- 
forming- me  of  the  ai-rangement  for  dedicating  the  tablet 
and  requesting  if  possible  to  be  present  and  "make  a  short 
address."  This  was  the  first  information  1  had  of  the  con- 
templated w^ork.  J  could  not  possibly  leave  my  work  on 
the  Oregon  Trail  in  time  to  reach  home  and  be  present,  so 
I  bethought  myself  to  be  present  in  spoken  words  and  voice 
even  if  J  could  not  be  in  person.  My  address  was  spoken 
into  the  wonderful  "thing  of  life, "'shall  I  call  it?  No, 
not  of  life,  "the  spirit  of  life,"  that  is  named  the  "phono- 
graph", that  recorded  the  very  tones  of  my  voice  that 
would  be  familiar  to  my  friends  at  home,  altliough  at  the 
time  these  words  w\nild  be  reproduced  I  would  be  nearly 
two  thousand  miles  distant,  climbing  up  the  eastern  slope 
of  the  Rocky  JMountains,  or  more  accurately  speaking  on 
the  siunmit  and  above  the  clouds  of  the  midsummer  day. 
The  records  of  the  addi*ess  reached  the  hands  of  the  ladies 
in  due  time,  when  lo  and  behold,  instead  of  a  few  friends 
as  anticipated  more  than  a  thousand  came  to  see  and  listen, 
and  as  all  could  not  hear,  the  address  was  read  in  full  after 
a  part  had  been  reproduced  from  the  phonograph.  As  a 
part  of  the  history  of  the  cabin  and  of  pioneer  life  it  is 
here  reiaroduced  for  the  greater  audience,  the  readers  of 
this  volume: 

"This  is  Ezra  Meeker  talking,  June  8th,  1U12,  Elm  Creek, 
Neb.,  211  miles  west  of  Omaha.  I  am  on  my  way  home  to 
the  Pacific  Coast.  This  is  my  fourth  trip  Avith  an  ox  team 
over  the  Oregon  Trail.  I  crossed  the  Missouri  Iliver  ten 
miles  below  Kanesville,  now  Council  Bluffs,  Ta.,  and  drove 
out  from  the  river  on  my  first  trip,  ]\lay  li)th,  1852,  and  ar- 
I'ived  at  the  straggling  village  of  Portland,  Ore  ,  Oct.  1st 
of  the  same  year.  We  encount(M'ed  the  butfalo  before 
reaching  Elm  Creek,  and  did  get  some  scourge  of  cholera, 
which  also  soon  after  that  caused  the  death  of  thousands 


Vkntures  and  Adventures  357 

of  pioneers.  ()ji  my  second  trip  I  started  from  my  hoiae 
at  Puyallup,  Wash.,  Jan.  29,  11)06,  and  drove  over  the  Tr-ail 
gettint;'  peopk^  to  erect  granite  monuments  to  perpetuate 
the  memory  of  the  Oregon  pioneers,  and  to  mark  the  Trail 
tliey  iiad  made,  which  has  resulted  in  the  erection  of  fifty 
of  these  monuments.*  I  then  drove  to  AVashington  City  to 
invoke  the  aid  of  the  Government,  where  I  arrived  Nov. 
29,  1907 ;  met  President  Roosevelt,  secured  favorable  com- 
mittee report  on  a  bill  appropriating  money  to  blaze  and 
mark  the  Trail.  I  returned  home  during  the  summer  of 
1908,  shipping  most  of  the  way.  I  made  my  third  trip  in 
1910  to  secure  data  to  estimate  the  cost  of  the  work,  and 
now  have  1,600  miles  of  the  Trail  platted  showing  the  sec- 
tion line  crossings. 

I  am  81  years  old,  44  years  a  farmer  in  the  one  location 
where  this  cabin  is. 

THE    ADDRESS. 

"My  mind  harks  back  to  the  virgin  forest  surrounding 
the  cabin;  to  the  t^vilight  concert  of  the  bird  songsters;  to 
the  dripping  dews  of  the  dense  foliage  of  the  ti'ees;  to  the 
pleasant  gathering  within  the  cabin ;  to  the  old  time  music 
of  the  violin,  flute,  melodeon,  and  Anally  the  piano,  mingled 
with  the  voices  of  many  now  hushed  and  hidden  from  us ; 
to  the  simple  life  of  the  pioneer;  to  the  cheerful  glow  of 
the  double  open  fires  within  the  cabin ;  to  the  more  cheer- 
ful glow  of  contentment  notwithstanding  the  stern  battle 
of  life  con  Fronting  the  inmates  of  the  cabin — all  these 
visions  vividly  arise  before  me,  and  not  only  intensifies  my 
interest  in  this  occasion,  but  brings  uppermost  in  mind  the 
importance  of  this  work. 

''As  we  better  understand  each  other  or  the  ways  of 
each  generation  we  are  sure  to  profit  by  their  failures  on 
the  one  hand,  as  well  as  by  their  successes  on  the  other.  Tlie 
difference  l)etween  a  civilized  and  untutored  people  lies  in 
the  application  of  this  principle,  and  we  perhaps  build  bet 

*Now  over  a  hundred  and  fifty. 


358  A  Busy  Life 

tor  than  we  know  or  eau  reaii/c  in  the  iurllierauee  oi" 
sueh  work  eonsuuiiriated  here  today. 

"May  we  not  i'or  a  few  nioinents  indulge  in  some  old 
time  remiuiseenee.s  /  When  we  entered  this  cabin  we  were 
without  a  team,  without  a  wagon,  without  money  and  with 
but  scant  supply  of  household  goods  and  clothing;  seven 
cows  and  a  steer  (Harry),  a  few  pigs  and  a  dozen  or  so  of 
chickens  comprising  our  worldly  belongings,  albeit  the  bears 
divided  the  pigs  with  us  and  the  skunks  took  their  share  of 
ihe  chickens.  One  cow  traded  to  Robert  Moore  for  a  steer 
(Jack)  to  mate  the  one  we  had,  gave  us  a  team. 

"The  loss  of  the  steamship  Northerner  had  carried  all  our 
accumulations  with  it  and  also  the  revered  brother,  Oliver 
Meeker,  who,  had  he  lived,  was  destined  to  make  his  mark 
in  the  annals  of  the  history  of  this  great  State. 

' '  If  the  walls  of  this  cabin  had  had  ears  and  could  speak, 
we  could  hear  of  the  councils  when  the  shoes  gave  out;  of 
the  trip  to  Steilacoom  for  two  sides  of  leather,  a  shoe  ham- 
mer, awls,  thread  and  the  like;  of  the  lasts  made  from  split 
alder  blocks;  of  shoe  pegs  split  with  a  case  knife  and  sea- 
soned in  the  oven ;  of  how  the  oldest  pig  suffered  and  died 
that  we  might  have  bristles  for  the  wax  ends ;  of  how,  with 
a  borrowed  auger  and  our  own  axe  a  sled  was  made  and 
work  in  earnest  in  the  clearing  began ;  of  how  in  two  years 
the  transplanted  orchard  began  to  bear ;  of  how  the  rasp- 
berries, blackberries  and  other  small  fruit  came  into  full 
bearing  and  salmon  berries  were  neglected  and  Siwash 
muck-a-muck  had  lost  its  attraction;  of  how  the  steamed 
lady  finger  potatoes  would  burst  open  just  like  popcorn 
and  of  how  the  meat  of  the  baked  kidney  potatoes  would 
open  as  white  as  the  driven  snow;  small  things  to  be  sure, 
but  we  may  well  remember  the  sum  of  life's  happiness  is 
made  up  of  small  things  and  that  as  keen  enjoyment  of 
life  exists  within  the  walls  of  a  cabin  as  in  a  palace. 

"Shall  we  strive  to  look  into  the  future  a  little  way'/ 
When  the  spot  we  dedicate  will  have  become  an  integral 
part  of  the  greater  Tacoma;  when  the  name  Puyallup,  so 
trou])lesome  foi-  strangers  to  spell,  pronounce  or  remember. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  359 

will  havo  disappeared  ;  when  the  great  ships  passing  through 
the  completed  Panama  canal  will  ride  at  anchor  in  basins 
undisturbed  b.y  the  tides  in  sight  of  this  monument  and 
almost  within  the  present  border  limits  of  our  city;  when 
the  trolley  ear  shall  have  taken  the  place  of  the  train  and 
aviatorsi  are  competing  for  passenger  traffic  ;  when  the  wire- 
less telephone  has  replaced  the  present  way  and  banished 
the  hello  girls,  we  may  well  exclaim  in  amazement:  'What 
wondrous  change  time  has  wrought  since  this  cabin  was 
built,'  and  safely  predict  greater  changes  will  greet  the 
generation  to  follow  in  the  no  distant  future. 

"That  tremendous  event  approaching  the  completion  of 
the  Panama  canal,  thus  giving  direct,  quick  and  cheap 
water  carriage  from  our  ports  to  the  marts  of  trade  of  Eu- 
rope, is  destined  to  revolutionize  conditions  on  the  Pacific 
coast.  Instead  of  sending  trainloads  of  our  fruit  to  East- 
ern ports  and  to  Europe  as  now,  ship  loads  will  be  dis- 
patched in  ever-increasing  quantities  as  freight  is  cheap- 
ened and  supplies  increased  and  with  this  stream  of  traffic 
will  come  a  vast  throng  of  immigrants  to  aid  in  developing 
the  land,  build  up  our  cities  and  bring  in  their  train  new 
problems  to  solve." 

The  song  sung  by  Mrs.  Montgomery  was  written  to  the 
tune  of  "Home,  Sweet  Home."  The  words,  composed  by 
Mrs.  Mills,  were: 

"We  welcome  you  gladly 

To  our  Valiey  of  Home?. 
These  trees  are  more  stately 

Than  pillars  and  domes. 
This  park  is  the  gift 

Of  a  brave  pioneer; 
This  stone  marks  the  site 

Of  his  old  home  so  dear. 

Chorus — 
All  honor  and  praise 

To  our  brave  pioneers. 
They  have  worked  for  the  home 

Through  all  the  long  years. 
On  memory's  tablet 

We'll  carve  each  dear  name, 
For  home  is  far  sweeter''i 

Than'power,  wealth 'or  fame." 


360  A  Busy  Life 

CHAPTER  LVI. 

I'lONKEK   LIFl':   IK   PT^YALLrP   VALLEY. 

The  inunigration  of  1853  through  the  Natchess  Pass 
settled  in  the  Puyallup  Valley.  Although  they  had  been 
on  the  Plains  all  summer  and  needed  rest,  impei-ative  neces- 
sity compelled  them  to  immediately  make  a  road  through 
the  forest  to  the  county  town  of  Steilacoom.  sixteen  miles 
away  and  situated  on  the  borders  of  Puget  Sound. 

Soon  after  the  road  was  built  one  of  them,  John  Carson, 
established  a  ferry  and  later  built  the  first  bridge  across 
the  Puyallup.  He  was  an  enterprising,  intelligent  man, 
yet  nevertheless  exceedingly  careless  in  business  as  likewise 
of  his  person.  Eighteen  months  before  I  moved  to  the 
valley,  I  crossed  the  river  at  his  place  and  found  him 
nailing  on  the  third  course  of  shingles  to  cover  a  new 
house  that  he  had  built.  He  came  down  off  the  roof  and 
T  remained  with  him  for  a  couple  of  hours,  most  of  the 
time  in  the  orchard,  for  even  at  that  early  day  we  were 
both  deeply  interested  in  fruit  culture.  I  willingly  ac- 
knowledge that  he  could  teach  we  a  great  deal  on  the  sub- 
ject. A  year  later  I  visited  him  again.  The  row  of 
shingles,  the  nail  bag  and  even  the  hatchet  remained  as 
he  had  left  it  on  the  occasion  of  my  first  visit,  notwith- 
standing he  and  his  family  were  living  in  the  hovel  of  one 
room  and  a  loft — the  remains  of  a  block  house  that  had 
been  erected  in  the  Indian  war  times.  The  lower  story 
was  so  low  that  his  wife,  who  was  a  tall  woman,  could  not 
stand  up  straight  except  between  the  rough  hewed  joists, 
as  attested  in  numerous  places  by  the  red  hair  from  the 
lady's  head  coming  in  contact  with  slivers  from  the  rough- 
hewed  logs.  Not  much  difiFerenct^  existed  between  the  two 
as  to  personal  habits  of  cleanliness,  or  rather  lack  of  clean- 
liness, and  yet  T  never  knew  a  more  altruistic  worker  than 
this  same  T^^mma  Darrow  Carson.  When,  in  early  days, 
we  establislied  a  Good  Templars'  Lodge,  for  the  sake  of 
the   children,    ]\Trs.    Carson,   rain   or   shine,    would   always 


Ventures  and  Adventures  361 

attend  and  always  do  her  part  to  make  the  meetings  inter- 
esting. 

Nearby  lived  my  neighbor,  Walker,  who  though  very 
strict  in  religions  matters,  nevertheless  would  not  join  in 
upbuikling  tiie  lodge  for  the  reason  he  and  his  wife  both 
were  opposed  to  secret  societies.  One  could  readily  see 
that  Mrs.  "Walker  believed  "cleanliness  was  next  to  godli- 
ness" by  a  look  into  her  house,  where  I  often  told  her  it 
would  seem  she  was  looking  after  the  invisible  dirt,  so 
persistent  she  seemed  in  the  care  of  her  house.  She  was 
an  industrious,  religious,  conscientious  lady  and  was  always 
welcomed  in  our  own  cabin,  ^vhere  she  ofteii  came  to  spend 
an  hour  with  another  pioneer's  wife  who  likewise  practiced 
the  time-honored  proverb. 

These  two  extreme  cases  will  show  to  the  reader  that 
even  in  the  cabins  there  can  be  as  wide  variance  in  habits 
as  in  the  more  pretentious  homes.  A  goodly  number  of 
the  pioneer  women  would  become  helpers  in  the  field  and 
gardens  whether  the  men  folks  of  the  household  thought 
it  was  just  the  proper  thing  to  do  or  not.  The  flower 
gardens  soon  appeared  in  every  dooryard  to  enliven  the 
homes  and  spread  contentment  in  the  household. 

For  years  the  pioneers  led  a  strenuous  life  with  but  little 
money  return,  so  little  it  would  seem  almost  incredible  if 
given,  and  yet  there  was  no  "moping"  or  comjilaining, 
for  there  seemed  to  be  a  will  to  make  the  best  of  things 
possible  and  enjoy  life  as  time  passed.  And,  why  not  ? 
The  yomigsters  (and  "greybeards"  as  well)  soon  began 
to  look  forward  with  anticipated  pleasure  to  the  coming 
of  a  holiday,  Fourth  of  July,  Christmas  or  what  not,  and 
make  weeks  of  preparation  for  them,  enjoy  the  occasion 
while  passing  and  enjoy  tiie  memory  of  the  experiences 
for  weeks  following. 

Let  us  look  in  on  a  Fourth  of  July  celebration.  A  grove 
has  been  selected  and  the  "boys"  in  their  "  'teens"  have 
cleared  away  the  brush,  built  a  speaker's  stand,  fixed  up 
the  tables  and  plenty  of  seats.  The  girls  have  baked  the 
cakes  and  pies,  picked  the  berries  and  flowers  and  pro- 


362  A  Busy  Life 

vided  other  "nick-nacks"  to  fill  in,  while  the  mothers  have 
baked  the  chickens,  made  the  salads  and  provided  the  sub- 
stantials  until  the  tables  fairly  groaned  under  the  load 
of  bountiful  supplies.  It  was  the  rule  that  everybody 
should  have  something  to  do.  One  of  the  older  boys,  or 
perhaps  a  girl,  would  be  appointed  to  read  the  Declaration 
of  Independence;  another,  to  deliver  the  address;  another 
to  read  an  original  essay,  or  a  poem,  with  music  sandwiched 
in  between,  sometimes  with  a  choinis  of  the  very  young 
ones,  or  perhaps  a  solo — enough  of  these  exercises  to  go 
round.  The  old  melodion,  now  in  the  AVashington  State 
Historical  Building  at  Tacoma,  that  has  long  ago  lost  its 
voice,  was  then  thought  to  be  a  marvel  of  sweet  tones  and 
served  to  drown  whatever  discord  might  creep  in  from  the 
flute  and  violin.  When  the  evening  came  the  small  folks 
could  have  their  dance  "all  by  their  lone",  while  the 
greater  lords  and  ladies  had  naught  to  do  but  look  on  or 
organize  somewhere  else,  which  they  often  did.  All  this 
tended  to  build  up  a  feeling  of  confidence  in  themselves  in 
the  minds  of  the  youngsters  and  cultivate  a  social  atmos- 
phere that  could  not  have  been  attained  in  any  other  way. 
All  of  these  "youngsters"  have  grown  up  to  manhood  and 
womanhood  or  sleep  beneath  the  sod  of  the  valley.  If  per- 
chance the  eye  of  any  one  of  them  catches  this  writing  they 
will  for  the  moment  say  "give  me  back  the  Fourth  of  July 
celebration  of  Puyallnp  of  fifty  years  ago." 

Seven  years  passed  after  the  first  settlement  was  made 
before  we  had  a  postofiice.  All  the  trading  was  done  at 
Steilaeoom,  which  was  sixteen  miles  distant  from  the  river 
crossing.  Any  one  going  out  to  the  market  town  (Steila- 
eoom) was  expected  to  bring  the  mail  for  everybody  and 
leave  it  at  the  ferry  or  carry  it  on  up  the  valley  for  those 
living  beyond.  Finally  a  postoffice  was  established  and 
named  Franklin,  and  my  next  door  neighbor,  J.  P.  Stewart, 
was  appointed  postmaster.  He  established  the  office  near 
the  ferry  landing  and  brought  in  a  stock  of  goods  to  trade 
on.  The  whole  stock  might  easily  have  been  hauled  in  one 
load   of  an  ordinary   farm   wagon.     He   came  very  near 


Venttres  and  Adventttres  363 

losing  tlio  postoffioo,  stock  of  goods  and  his  life  from  a 
great  freshet  that  eamc,  the  like  of  which  has  not  since 
been  seen  to  this  day.  The  headwaters  of  the  Puyallnp 
issue  out  from  under  a  great  glacier  of  Mount  Rainier, 
probably  no  more  than  eight  thousand  feet  above  sea  level 
and  but  forty  miles  distant  from  the  present  city  of  Puy- 
allup.  The  avalanches  from  the  great  mountain  are  won- 
derful to  contemplate.  I  saw  the  effect  of  one  in  British 
Columbia  once  where  a  swath  of  dense  fo7*est  trees  had 
been  cut  off  close  to  the  ground,  where  not  uprooted,  and 
carried  to  the  lower  lands,  a  mixture  of  timber,  stone 
and  snow,  packed,  apparently,  as  solid  as  a  rock.  In  this 
particular  instance  the  front  mass  had  been  carried  beyond 
the  bottom  and  up  the  slope  of  at  least  twenty-five  degrees 
on  the  opposite  side,  several  hundred  feet  on  the  mountain 
side,  by  the  irresistible  force  of  the  mass  behind.  At  the 
time  of  which  I  A\Tite,  there  undoubtedly  had  been  a 
huge  dam  formed  by  an  avalanche  until  a  vast  ac- 
cumulation of  water  finally  broke  loose  and  came  down 
the  valley,  seemingly  carrying  everything  before  it.  A 
tremendous  roar  of  water  came,  accompanied  with  a  crash 
of  timber  not  easily  described.  Mr.  Walker,  who  stood  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  a  mile  above,  told  me  he  saw  great 
balm  trees  caught  with  some  obstructions  under  the  roots 
and  the  timber  lifted  bodily  by  the  force  of  the  water  and 
forced  end  over  end  with  an  indescribable  crash  to  terrify 
the  onlooker.  Water  running  on  the  lower  ground  back 
of  Stewart  soon  formed  an  island  and  left  him  alone  Avith- 
out  any  means  of  escape,  as  the  ferry  had  been  can-ied 
away.  A  big,  high  balm  stump  furnished  the  only  refuge 
of  safety  and  there  he  stayed  all  night  and  part  of  the  next 
day  without  food  or  sufficient  clothing,  chilled  to  the  ''mar- 
row bone",  for  he  was  in  his  shirt  sleeves  when  the  crash 
came.  When  the  water  receded  so  he  could,  the  postoffice, 
store  and  all  were  speedily  removed  to  a  place  of  safety. 
It  was  common  remark  that  when  Stewart  moved  the  post- 
office  he  simply  put  it  on  his  back  and  walked  off  with  it. 
Those  who  have  seen  the  glacier  describe  it  as  a  wonder. 


364  A  Busy  Life 

The  water  issues  out  as  from  a  great  cavern  into  which 
one  can  walk  upright  for  ffuite  a  way.  This  is  the  first 
glacier  discovered  in  the  United  States.  Doctor  Tolmie, 
then  the  chief  factor  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  at 
Nisqually,  ascended  the  Puyallup  in  1833  and  discovered 
the  huge  glacier  and  wrote  in  the  fort  journal  an  account 
of  his  tri]).  For  sixty  years  since  I  first  saw  the  Puyallup 
River,  this  great  mill  has  heen  grinding  away  and  sluicing 
out  fine  particles  of  the  mountain,  sufficient  in  f|uantity 
to  whiten  the  water  almost  a  milk-white  color.  AVhen  the 
glacier  is  most  active,  a  glass  of  the  water  left  standing 
over  night  will  show  sediment  in  the  bottom  thick  as  a 
sheet  of  writing  paper.  We  are  led  to  wonder  how  long 
this  has  been  grinding,  how  long  it  will  take  to  grind  away 
the  mountain.  We  are  told  the  continual  dropping  of 
water  will  wear  away  a  stone.  Will  not  this  grinding 
finally  grind  away  the  whole  mountain?  Can  we  guess 
how  long  it  has  taken  to  fill  up  this  valley?  We  know  the 
deposit  of¥  the  mouth  of  the  Puyallup  River  is  fully  six 
hundred  feet  deep ;  that  the  Puyallup  Valley  at  its  junction 
with  the  Rtuek  Valley  was  once  an  arm  of  the  Sound ;  and 
the  latter  valley  with  the  White  River  (so  called  because 
of  the  milky  wliiteness  of  its  water  coming  from  the  same 
mountain),  and  Duwamish  Valley  to  the  salt  waters  of  the 
Sound  at  Elliott  Bay,  where  again  it  is  met,  the  bay  six 
hundred  feet  deep  just  off  from  the  mouth  of  the  river, 
was  also  once  a  part  of  the  Sound.  How  long  before  Com- 
Jiiencement  Bay,  Elliott  Bay  and  Admiralty  Tnlet  will  have 
met  the  same  fate  as  the  Puyallup,  Stuck  and  Duwamish 
valleys,  and  the  cities  of  Taeoma  and  Seattle  be  dredging  a 
channel  through  Admiralty  Tnlet? 

But  let  us  look  to  the  story  of  Puvalluj).  The  marvelous 
fcitility  of  the  soil  has  been  told  over  and  over  again  until 
tlic  very  name  has  become  famous  across  the  sea.  I  once 
measured  a  ho|)  loot  eleven  feet  long  that  had  been  exposed 
by  the  cutting  away  of  the  river  bank  and  thus  leaving 
it  exposed  to  view  where  it  had  reached  a  point  seven  feet 
under  the  surface  of  the  land.    The  little  band  of  pioneers 


Vkntt'Res  Axn  AnvKNTURKS  365 

had  come  into  a  lici-itagc  Ijcyond  tlicir  wildest  dreams; 
the  ages  of  decaying  leaves  falling  from  the  deciduous 
growth  of  the  balm,  alder  and  ash  had  mingled  with  the 
silt  of  the  mountain  until  a  soil  not  surpassed  in  richness 
was  found — so  rich  we  may  cease  to  wonder  that  "Walker 
might  dig  his  bucket  full  of  potatoes  from  one  hill. 

Let  us  look  in  on  this  little  colony  two  years  after  their 
arrival  in  the  autumn  of  1853.  Their  clearing  had  widened 
sufficiently  to  let  the  sun  in  but  not  so  wide  as  to  afford  a 
continuous  view  to  see  each  otlier's  cabins  or  see  the  great 
mountain.  No  money  had  come  into  the  valley  in  return 
for  their  crops,  for  the  double  reason  that  as  yet  there  was 
but  little  to  spare,  and  even  if  there  had  been  a  surplus 
they  could  not  have  gotten  it  to  the  market  because  of  the 
lack  of  a  road  ovci*  which  a  load  could  be  hauled.  I  will 
tell  one  little  incident  that  will  illustrate.  Anyone  pass- 
ing througli  the  fir  forest  will  remember  the  wonderful 
size  of  surface  roots  of  the  fir  trees,  in  some  places  running 
out  part  above  the  surface  and  nearly  as  big  as  a  man's 
body.  One  day  when  I  was  driving  a  cart  over  the  road 
mentioned  the  pioneers  had  opened,  the  wheels  passed  over 
and  left  the  cart  bed  resting  solidly  on  the  big  root,  and 
so,  in  the  common  expression  of  the  county,  I  was  "stuck". 
This  M'ill  give  a  faint  idea  of  what  an  earlv  dav  road  was 
like. 

In  places  a  glimpse  of  smoke  from  a  neighbor's  cabin 
might  be  seen  or  the  sound  of  voices  heard.  All  were  busy 
in  their  clearing,  ''making  hay  while  there  was  sun", 
before  the  winter  rains  set  in.  At  nightfall  of  the  evening 
of  October  28,  1858,  just  two  years  after  their  arrival  in 
the  valley,  the  pioneers  were  startled  by  the  news  that  in 
the  neighboring  valley  of  White  River  the  settlers  had  all 
been  massacred  by  the  Indians.  The  scene  of  this  massacre 
was  no  more  than  ten  miles  distant  from  the  nearest  cabin 
in  the  Puyallup — a  ride,  as  the  trail  run,  of  less  than  two 
hours.  Consternation  seized  every  mind.  It  was  natural 
to  believe  the  Indians  would  be  over  on  them  when  day- 
light came,  even  if  not  before.    The  pioneers  were  scattered, 


366  A  Busy  Life 

illy  armed,  encumbered  with  their  families  and  in  no  con- 
dition to  resist  an  attack.  The  fort  (Steilacoom)  was 
fifteen  miles  distant  from  the  nearest  cabin  and  the  river 
lay  between  with  no  means  of  crossing  teams  or  wagons 
except  by  the  long  detour  of  what  was  known  as  the 
"upper  road",  that  is,  the  military  road,  and  by  fording 
the  river.  For  most  of  the  settlers  the  ford  would  not  be 
reached  before  daylight  of  the  next  day,  and  even  then 
it  would  be  doubtful  if  the  stage  of  the  river  would  per- 
mit of  crossing.  The  only  alternative  seemed  to  take  the 
most  direct  route  over  the  road  they  had  themselves  opened 
soon  after  their  arrival  in  the  valley.  Without  concert  of 
action  (for  none  was  possi])le,  scattered  as  they  were  in 
their  cabins)  the  movement  began  in  the  night.  Women, 
with  children  in  their  arms,  almost  immediately  upon  re- 
ceipt of  the  dreadful  news,  started  on  the  perilous  trip, 
the  men  carrying  their  guns  and  such  clothing  or  bedding 
as  could  hastily  be  selected  and  bundled  up  into  packs. 
At  Carson's  two  canoes  and  a  small  boat  afforded  all  the 
means  of  crossing.  The  two  canoes  had  been  lashed  to- 
gether and  finally  a  wagon  gotten  across  and  a  team  that 
swam  across  the  river.  By  midnight  many  had  crossed 
and  had  at  once  began  the  weary  journey  to  the  fort.  Day- 
light overtook  them,  strung  out  for  miles  on  the  road  or 
either  crossing  at  the  ferry  or  waiting  their  time  when  they 
could  cross.  The  "upper  settlement"  in  the  forks  of  the 
river,  the  Lanes,  Whitesels  and  others  nearer  the  military 
road,  fared  better,  for  they  could  cross  the  south  fork 
with  their  teams  and  wagons  and  take  considerable  of  their 
belongings  with  them  and  some  provisions  as  well,  while 
the  throng  on  the  lower  road  could  not.  Such  was  the 
condition  of  affairs  on  the  morning  of  the  29th.  T  had 
started  wdth  my  family  in  the  early  morning,  as  fully  told 
in  "The  Reminiscences — The  Tragedy  of  Leschi",  and 
reached  the  fort  six  or  more  hours  before  any  of  the  Puy- 
allup  people  from  either  settlement  began  to  arrive. 

But  the   Indians  did  not  come  to   harrass  the   fleeing 
settlers.     They  turned  their  guns  on  the  small  volunteer 


Ventures  and  Adventures  367 

force  that  had  just  reached  a  camping  place  at  the  foot 
of  the  bluff  on  the  military  road  a  mile  east  of  the  ford 
of  the  main  river  (Puyalluj))  that  had  been  sent  out  by 
Acting- (Tovernor  Mason — Governor  Stevens  being  absent 
negotiating  the  Blackfeet  Indian  treaty.  The  horses  of  this 
force  had  been  run  off  and  the  men  cooped  up  in  a  cabin 
by  the  Indians  following  the  killing  of  Cornell  and  Mc- 
Allister, preceding  the  massacre  a  day,  all  of  which  is 
given  in  detail  in  the  "Tragedy"  and  will  not  be  repeated 
here  further  than  to  give  the  context  to  the  scenes  that 
followed.  Of  the  indescribable  scenes  of  confusion  that 
followed ;  the  dilemma  of  the  i)ioneers  as  to  where  to  go 
for  safety ;  how  to  subsist ;  the  incursion  of  nineteen  men 
to  the  Puyallup  to  rescue  some  of  the  abandoned  property 
and  provisions  of  the  pioneers,  is  all  told  in  "The  Trag- 
edy of  Leschi." 

Looking  back  over  the  vista  of  these  fifty-eight  years  that 
have  passed  and  which  now  again  come  so  vividly  in  mind 
reviving  old-time  memories,  I  can  truly  say  with  General 
Sherman  that  "war  is  hell",  whether  between  brothers  of 
the  same  race  or  with  the  native  race  blindly  wreaking 
vengance  upon  innocent  people  who  were  their  true  friends. 

The  Indians  held  possession  of  the  country  adjacent  to 
the  Puyallup  Valley  for  several  months.  Most  of  the  set- 
tlers' cabins  were  burned,  their  fences  destroyed,  their 
stock  run  off  or  killed,  crops  appropriated,  leaving  the 
valley  a  scene  of  desolation  and  solitude  as  before  the  ad- 
vent of  the  white  man  but  little  over  two  years  before. 

But  what  to  do  after  arriving  at  the  so-called  fort  (Steil- 
acoom),  which  was  no  fort  at  all  but  merely  an  encamp- 
ment in  a  few  log  huts  and  where  neither  comfort  nor 
safety  was  vouchsafed,  was  the  question  confronting  the 
pioneers.  For  myself,  I  will  say  that  my  brother  Oliver 
and  father,  Jacob  R.  Meeker,  with  the  three  families,  with- 
drew from  the  garrison,  proceeded  to  the  town  of  Steil- 
acoom,  built  a  strong  log  block  house  and  took  care  of 
ourselves.  That  block  house  stands  there  in  Steilacoom 
to  this  day,  weather-boarded  on  the  outside  and  ceiled  in- 


368  A  Busy  Life 

side  so  that  the  passing  visitor  will  uot  roeoguize  it,  and 
is  almost  forgotten  by  the  generation  now  ocenpying  the 
town. 

In  two  years'  time  a  majority  of  the  settlers  had  returned 
to  their  homes  while  a  few  hesitated  because  of  the  fear 
of  further  outbreak  of  the  Indians  (which  never  came), 
but  hei-e  and  there  one  abandoned  his  claim  and  did  not 
return.  But  the  handicai)s  remained.  Soon  the  clearings 
I)rodueed  vastly  more  products  than  could  be  consumed  at 
home;  the  market  at  Stteilaeoom  was  restricted  and  at  best 
difficult  to  reach,  and  so  certain  crops  became  a  burden 
to  producers  instead  of  a  profit.  A  road  could  easily  be 
opened  do^\Ti  the  valley  to  Commencement  Bay  to  the  point 
now  know  as  the  Tide  Flats  within  the  city  limits  of 
Tacoma,  but  there  was  then  only  a  waste  of  waters  con- 
fronting the  pioneers,  for  this  was  long  before  Tacoma  was 
thought  of  or  even  the  name,  except  in  the  brain  of  that 
eccentric  traveler  and  delightful  writer,  Winthrop,  whose 
works  disclosed  his  fine  writing,  after  his  death  on  the 
battlefield  of  Chantilly. 

Ten  long  years  elapsed  before  a  change  came,  except  as 
the  clearings  became  larger  and  stock  increased,  for  the 
dairy  brought  prosperity  to  the  few  and  encouraged  others 
to  continue  the  strife.  Within  this  period  hops  had  been 
introduced  and  set  a  new  standard  of  industry  and  wrought 
a  marvelous  change. 

Finally  a  store  was  opened  at  the  "Reservation"  where 
the  government  agency  had  been  established  and  a  road 
opened  to  it  from  the  up-river  settlements,  but  the  road 
extended  no  further,  and  all  freight  was  carried  out  of 
the  river  in  canoes,  or  later,  in  lighters  to  the  mill  wharf 
that  had  been  built  in  1861)  and  where  a,  limited  market  had 
been  found. 

Opposite  th(»  point  wlici-c  the  Indian  school  was  later 
established  a  di'ift  obstructed  the  river  for  more  than  a 
thousand  feet  so  complelely  that  a  person  could  cross  over 
the  channel  anywhere.  Two  more  drifts  further  up,  but 
not  so  extensive,  completely  blocked  the  channel.     A  theory 


Ventures  and  Adventures  369 

gained  currency  that  the  river  could  be  navigated  with 
small  boats  once  the  drifts  were  removed,  and  they  were 
removed  by  the  i)ioneers,  but  no  navigation  followed  and 
the  $1,500  put  into  the  enterprise  became  a  total  loss, 
except  for  the  timber  logging  camps  that  were  established 
and  thrived  for  a  while. 

We  now  pass  over  another  ten  years'  period  to  the  build- 
ing of  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad  up  the  valley  to  the 
coal  veins  in  the  mountains,  ending  at  the  time  at  the  point 
named  Wilkeson.  Twenty  years  before  close  observers 
noted  the  fact  that  float  coal  could  be  found  on  the  bars 
of  the  Puyallup  River.  These  small  pieces,  not  bigger 
than  a  pea,  became  a  matter  of  dispute  as  to  whether  the 
substance  was  coal  or  not.  Finally,  early  in  the  seventies, 
a  "chunk"  as  big  as  a  nmn's  fist  was  found  imbedded  in 
the  gravel  between  the  roots  of  a  balm  tree  that  had 
lodged,  part  of  it  burned,  and  all  doubts  removed  as  to 
the  existence  of  coal  on  the  lieadwaters  of  the  river.  John 
Gale  prosecuted  a  diligent  search  and  was  rewarded  by 
finding  the  vein  to  which  the  railroad  was  built. 

The  building  of  the  railroad  opened  up  the  valley  and 
give  encouragement  to  those  who  had  bided  their  time  so 
long.  The  time  had  arrived  when  there  came  to  be  a  money 
value  to  land.  So  long  as  the  country  was  not  subdivided, 
settlers  could  not  obtain  title  to  their  land  and  transfers 
would  become  confusing  as  each  had  surveyed  his  own 
claim  under  the  donation  act.  This  act  gave  the  head  of 
a  family  160  acres,  and  the  same  to  the  wife  in  her  own 
right.  Such  delays  on  the  part  of  the  Government  that 
followed  seemed  now  almost  incredible.  I  did  not  receive 
the  patent  for  my  donation  claim  for  thirteen  years  after 
my  settlement  was  made,  and  others  had  a  similar  experi- 
ence and  even  a  longer  period.  But  with  the  coming  of 
the  surveys  and  the  advent  of  the  hops,  values  rose  and 
became  established  at  a  rate  that  pioneers  had  never 
dreamed  of  and  yet  had  advanced  from  year  to  year,  or 
rather  for  the  whole  period,  to  a  point  that  would  then 
have  seemed   unthinkable.     The  first  sudbivision  surveys 

25—1958 


370  A  Busy  Life 

by  the  Government  were  made  in  Puyalhip  during  the  year 
18(i4.  J.  P.  Stewart  and  George  W.  Sloan  took  the  con- 
tract. Neither  was  well  suited  i'or  the  work,  Stewart  being 
too  nervous  and  Sloan  scarcely  responsible  for  his  acts. 
Up  to  the  time  of  the  survey  all  claims  outside  of  the  first 
taken  under  the  donation  act  were  mere  s<iuatters'  claims 
upon  the  public  land,  but  no  recognition  of  any  right  could 
be  had  at  the  land  office,  then,  as  now,  at  Olympia.  No 
serious  trouble  followed  in  adjusting  the  lines  followed,  as 
the  donation  claim  lines  were  respected  and  had  in  fact 
for  many  years  served  as  a  guide  to  later  claimants.  As 
soon  as  the  surveys  were  made,  all  parties  made  for  the 
land  oiHce,  the  donation  claimants  to  "prove  up"  the  pre- 
emptions, and  homesteaders  to  make  application  for  their 
respective  rights.  I  did  not  go  with  the  rush  for  the 
reason  that  I  wanted  to  take  raj^  claim  under  the  home- 
stead law,  which  required  an  outlay  of  sixteen  dollars, 
and  "for  the  life  of  me"  I  couldn't  raise  that  much  money. 
The  fact  was  that,  almost  literally  sj^eaking,  there  was  no 
money  in  the  valley.  Finally,  becoming  uneasy  lest  some 
one  might  "slip  in"  and  pre-empt  from  under  me,  I  walked 
to  Olympia  and  pre-empted  where  the  fee  was  but  a  dol- 
lar, and  held  under  the  entry  for  several  months  until 
money  could  be  obtained,  when  a  homestead  was  located 
upon  the  same  land,  thus  expending  both  rights  for  the 
lack  of  $16.00.  This  to  many  would  seem  ludicrous,  but 
the  actors  looked  upon  the  serious  side,  and  did  not  wish 
to  take  any  chances  of  losing  their  homes.  A  few  years 
later  I  sold  one  crop  of  hops  for  $75,000,  which  now  looks 
as  incredible  as  the  other  fact  of  inability  to  raise  even 
so  small  an  amount  as  $16.00.  In  the  chapter  on  hops 
the  reader  will  be  told  the  whole  story  of  the  $75,000  hop 
crop.  The  reader  may  well  wonder  why  1  walked  from 
Puyallup  to  Olympia,  a  distance  of  thirty-five  miles,  and 
back  out  of  sympathy  for  conditions  that  would  seem  to 
call  for  such  a  "sacrifice"  of  personal  comfort.  To  such, 
let  me  disabuse  their  minds,  for  it  was  indeed  a  pleasant 
day,  if  not  of  recreation — a  day  of  self-communion  with 


VrwTiTREs  AND  Adventures  371 

pleasant  thoughts  of  the  ])ast  and  bright  anticipations  as 
to  the  future.  Fatigued  ?  Yes,  but  just  enough  to  enjoy 
rest.  Can  we  enjoy  rest  without  first  experiencing  fatigue 
and  withal  with  good  appetite  for  a  frugal  meal?  I  did 
not  think  of  it  then  as  anything  out  of  the  ordinary,  and 
for  that  matter  do  not  now,  as  it  was  only  one  of  the 
strenuous  day's  experiences  of  the  time,  besides  to  me  long 
walks  are  conducive  to  good  health — not  so  long  a  walk 
as  that  to  Olympia,  but  the  one  or  two  hours'  brisk  walk 
in  communion  with  nature  and  oneself. 

I  reiiKMuber  another  walk  from  Puyallup  to  Olympia  in 
1870,  Avhere  I  first  met  Judge  Roger  S.  Greene,  who  was 
then  on  the  bench  as  Chief  Justice  of  the  Territory.  I 
remained  some  time  in  Olympia.  overlooking  my  first  stag- 
ger at  book  making,  an  80-page  pamphlet,  "Wa-shington 
Territory  West  of  the  Cascades",*  of  which  I  had  5,000 
copies  printed,  all  of  which  went  into  circulation  in  the 
Eastern  States.  When  I  got  through  with  this  work  I 
walked  back  home. 

I  still  love  to  walk.  Leaving  the  house  (1120  North 
Thirty-eighth  Street,  Seattle),  a  few  days  ago,  the  fresh 
air  felt  so  good  I  continued  my  walk  to  First  Avenue,  at 
the  foot  of  Madison,  in  an  hour  and  five  minutes — three 
miles  and  perhaps  a  little  more;  nothing  very  remarkable 
about  these  walks  except  I  attribute  my  continued  good 
health  to  this  open  air  exercise  and  would  like  to  encour- 
age anyone,  the  young  people  in  particular,  to  the  end  that 
they  may  do  likewise.  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  walked  over 
two  thousand  miles  on  my  recent  trips  across  the  continent 
with  the  ox-team,  part  of  the  time  from  necessity  but  often 
for  a  camping  place,  frequently  four  or  six  miles.  The 
oxen  usually  would  travel  Uvo  miles  an  hour  while  my  easy 
gait  M'ould  be  three,  so  that  by  timing  myself  I  could  easily 
tell  how  far  I  was  ahead  and  how  long  it  would  take  the 
oxen  to  catch  up.  But  the  long  walk  was  across  the  Plains 
in  1852,  after  the  teams  weakened  and  the  dust  became 
intolerable  in  the  wagon  on  the  Plains  in  early  days.     Then 

*Now  so  rare  that  $25.00  has  boon  paid  for  a  copy  in  two  instances. 


372  A  Busy  Life 

is  Avhen  the  walking  bocanie  woarisomo,  so  wearisome  tliat 
I  lost  111}^  weight  rapidly,  though  apparently  not  any 
strength. 

But  as  a  forced  walk,  that  is,  one  taken  meehauically 
where  one  can  see  nothing  except  the  road  ahead  of  him 
and  think  of  nothing  liut  the  mechanical  action,  soon  be- 
comes tiresome  and  will  lose  much  of  the  benefit  that  comes 
from  an  exhiliratini;-  walk  where  one  scarcely  remembers 
the  road  and  only  sees  nature  if  in  the  country  or  pleasant 
things  if  in  the  city,  and  then  of  the  bright  side  of  life, 
and  casts  unpleasant  subjects  from  his  mind ;  then  is  when 
the  long  walk  becomes  a  "joy  forever." 

Of  the  social  side  of  life  in  the  early  pioneer  days,  much 
can  be  truthfully  written  worthy  of  emulation  by  the  pres- 
ent day  generation.  The  reader  ^^^ll  doubtless  bear  in 
mind  that  the  author  is  of  a  generation  nearly  gone,  and, 
measured  with  the  average  length  of  life,  two  whole  gen- 
erations have  passed  and  a  third  nearly  so,  and  hence  wnW 
hesitate  to  acept  the  conclusions  as  coming  from  an  un- 
biased source.  We  so  often  see  pessimism  manifested  by 
unsuccessful  elderly  persons  that  the  world  is  ready  to  ac- 
cept as  a  fact  that  age  brings  with  it  a  pessimistic  spirit, 
and  hence  the  writing  by  an  old  man  of  younger  days  is 
like  looking  where  distance  lends  enchantment.  I  am  not 
conscious  of  looking  on  life  other  than  in  my  younger  days 
— the  bright,  hopeful  side,  where  right  and  honesty  is  the 
rule  and  wrong  and  dishonesty  the  exception.  The  isola- 
tion of  the  pioneers  from  the  outside  world  had  a  teudency 
to  draw  them  together  as  one  great  family.  While  of 
course  a  great  disparity  of  habit,  thrift,  morals  and  intel- 
lectual attainments  (^xisted,  yet  the  tendency  undeniably 
was  to  look  with  a  lenient  eye  upon  the  shortcomings  of 
others  as  between  brothers  or  parents  and  child.  There 
were  none  too  high  not  to  associate  with  the  least  of  his 
neighboi-s  and  none  too  low  not  to  look  with  respect  upon 
his  more  successful  neighbor.  1  I'einember  but  one  divorce 
ca.se  in  the  whole  period  undei*  review,  and  this  long  after 
Iheir  familv  had  been  l)orii  to  them  and  some  of  them  mar- 


Ventfres  and  Adventtres  373 

ried— sad  caso,  that  not  only  brought  universal  condemna- 
tion to  one  of  the  parties  but  financial  ruin  to  l)oth,  and 
althoug-h  in  affluent  circumstances  at  the  time,  both  finally 
died  penniless  and,  as  we  might  say,  filled  paupers'  graves 
— a  sorry  but  just  retribution  to  one  and  a  sad  ending  to 
tiie  other.  Cruel  as  it  may  appear  to  some  of  my  readers, 
T  am  always  ready  to  exclaim,  "would  that  it  were  thus 
to  all  that  seek  to  dissolve  the  sacred  bonds  of  matrimony 
for  light  and  trivial  cause",  as  we  see  so  prevalent  in  this 
day,  that  is  sai)ping  the  very  foundation  of  good  morals 
from  under  later  generations. 

Without  preaching  the  doctrine,  there  comes  a  feeling 
to  pervade  the  minds  of  many  that  "he  is  my  brother" 
and  acted  accordingly.  There  came  very  near  being  so- 
cialism at  the  outset,  on  the  Plains,  to  help  the  weaker. 
Of  course.  I  do  not  mean  to  be  understood  that  selfishness, 
or  that  ill-feeling  between  individuals  did  not  exist,  but 
would  have  the  reader  understand  that  the  great  body  of 
the  pioneers  were  altruistic  in  their  actions  and  foi-givine 
in  spirit.  When  this  much  is  said,  it  would  almost  seem 
to  cover  the  religious  life  as  well  as  the  social.  Indeed, 
sucli  to  a  great  extent  was  the  case.  The  pioneers  at  once 
built  schoolhouses  but  no  churches.  Teachers  were  em- 
ployed for  the  schools,  but  no  preachers,  except  itinerants 
who  came  at  times,  prompted  by  the  religious  zeal  that 
was  in  them.  These  were  indeed  strenuous  times,  but  the 
experiences  tended  to  the  development  of  a  better  man- 
hood and  womanhood  th;in  to  lead  a  life  of  affluence  and 
idleness. 

But  two  of  the  adults  of  that  day  remain — T  mean  of 
those  ■\^nth  families:     Willis  Boatman  and  the  author. 

The  following  letter  from  my  old  time  friend  and  pioneer. 
Edward  J.  Allen,  now  86  years  old,*  so  vividly  ijortrays 
the  ways  of  those  early  days,  yet  with  cheerful  optimism, 
that  it  brings  to  mind  memories  of  the  past,  needs  no  com- 
ment at  my  hand  other  than  to  invite  a  careful  reading: 


*Sinne  deceased  at  the  age  of  9.3. 


374  A  Busy  Life 

"November  28,  1908. 

"My  Dear  Old  Pioneer — I  am  glad  to  know  that  you 
have  taken  up  the  Pioneer  branch  of  the  Exposition,  as  it 
insures  that  it  vvill  be  best  presented. 

"Someone  else  might  take  up  the  scheme  and  study  out 
a  fair  presentation  of  the  old  days,  but  ^^ath  you  it  ^\nll 
require  no  study,  not  even  a  test  of  memory,  for  you  have 
kept  the  past  in  close  and  loving  remembrance,  while  you 
have  held  an  active  interest  in  the  ever  changing  present. 

"You  link  together  today  and  yesterday. 

"Long  may  you  wave. 

"I  want  greatly  to  get  out  to  tlie  great  show  and  am  en- 
deavoring to  shape  things  that  I  may.  It  would  be  a  de- 
light in  many  ways,  and  maybe  my  last  chance  to  see  what 
is  left  of  tbe  Old^ Guard. 

' '  And  I  would  like  to  see  my  old  friend  Meeker,  amid  the 
suiTOundings  that  become  him  most,  and  in  the  impersona- 
tions of  the  old  days  that  the  next  generation,  nor  those  to 
come  can  ever  know,  for  the  waste  places  of  the  earth  are 
being  inhabited,  and  tlie  old  ways  are  lost  ways,  and  may 
never  be  known  again.  We  that  were  of  them  know  that 
the  world  grows  better  and  we  do  not  wish  the  dial  to  now 
reflect  only  the  shadows  of  the  past,  but  there  are  times 
when  the  old  simple  ways  are  ways  to  regret,  even  though 
we  accept  the  truth  that  progress  means  betterment.  But 
in  the  betterment,  we  lose  some  things  we  miss  greatly  and 
would  love  to  retain.  There  is  nothing  more  humanizing, 
nothing  more  tending  to  the  bi'otherhood  of  man,  than 
much  interdependence. 

"In  those  days  while  there  was  of  necessity  great  self- 
reliance,  there  was  also  much  wholesome  dependence  upon 
our  neighbors,  in  all  the  matters  of  daily  life  tlie  need  was 
felt,  and  the  call  was  answered. 

"The  day,  in  the  last  extremity,  wlien  death  invades  the 
household  doubtless  the  last  rites  are  better  cared  for 
in  the  skilled  hands  of  the  "funeral  director"  than  by  the 
kindly  neighbors  who  in  the  earlier  times  came  with  tender 
thought  and  kindly  intention  to  you  in  .youi-  affliction.     It 


Ventures  and  Adventures  375 

brought  you  close  together.  If  there  were  need  to  be  toler- 
ant to  some  blemishes  in  their  general  make  up,  you  felt 
you  were  eonstrained  to  exercise  such  tolerance,  for  you 
had  accepted  their  services  in  your  need. 

"You  knew  them  at  their  best  and  always  remembered 
they  had  such  a  best. 

"We  lose  this  in  our  larger  life,  and  it  is  a  serious  loss, 
as  are  all  things  that  separate  us  from  our  fellow  man, 
when  our  need  is  to  be  brought  closer  together.  In  all 
large  gains  we  have  to  accept  some  losses. 

"It  is  the  remembrance  of  this  feature  of  primitive  days 
that  make  them  so  dear  to  us. 

"E.  J.  ALLEN." 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

SKETCHES  OF  WESTERN  LIFE. 

"Occidental,  Transcontinental,  Oriental"  McDo7iald. 

In  the  early  fifties  of  the  19th  century,  there  appeared 
on  the  waters  of  Puget  Sound  an  eccentric  character  an- 
swering- to  the  name  of  Joe  Lane  McDonald.  He  was  a 
corpulent  man  of  low  stature,  short  bowlegs,  a  fat  neck,  a 
"pug"  bulldog  nose,  ^\dth  small  but  very  piercing  eyes 
and  withal  a  high  forehead  that  otherwise  softened  the 
first  unfavorable  impression  of  him. 

The  writer  is  relating  personal  observations  of  this 
unique  character  as  he  frequently  saw  him  at  the  new  and 
then  thriving  town  of  Steilacoom,  then  the  center  of  trade 
for  all  of  Puget  Sound  and  to  the  Straits  of  San  Juan  De 
Fuca. 

McDonald  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  among  the 
first,  if  not  the  very  first,  trader  among  the  6,000  Indians 
of  Puget  Sound,  for  at  that  early  day,  1853-55,  there  were 
but  few  wiiites  to  be  seen.  His  sloop,  about  the  size  of 
an  ordinary  whaleboat,  was  decked  over  fore  and  aft  and 
along  each  side,  leaving  an  oblong  open  oval  space  in  the 


376  A  Busy  Life 

center  from  which  the  captain,  as  he  was  frequently  called, 
could  stand  at  the  helm  and  manage  his  sail,  and  eat  a 
lunch  easily  readied  from  a  locker  nearby. 

When  once  eng'aged  in  conversation,  the  unfa vorji hie  im- 
l)r('ssion  made  by  his  physical  defoi'mities  and  unkempt 
condition  disappeared,  as  he  was  glib  of  tongue  and  pos- 
sessed a  world  of  ideas  far  in  advance  of  his  compeers,  and 
witli  knowledge  to  back  up  his  theories.  He  would  declaim 
almost  by  the  hour  portraying  the  grand  future  of  Puget 
Sound,  the  "Occidental,  Transcontinental,  Oriental 
Trade",  as  he  put  it,  that  Avould  certainly  come  in  the 
near  future  and  the  grand  possibilities  for  the  embryo 
center  of  trade,  the  town  of  Steilacoom. 

"Harping"  upon  the  topic  so  much.  McDonald  came  to 
be  known  more  by  the  sobriquet  of  ' '  Occidental,  Transcon- 
tinental, Oriental"  ]\IcDonald,  rather  than  by  his  own 
given  name. 

The  keep  of  his  sloo])  was  as  neglected  as  that  of  his 
person,  which  of  itself  is  saying  a  good  deal.  It  was  a  fact 
that  the  odor  from  his  boat  (not  to  give  it  a  worse  name) 
could  be  detected,  with  favorable  wind,  a  hundred  paces 
away  and  from  McDonald  himself  uncomfortably  so  in  a 
close  room. 

Notwithstanding  all  this  he  was  an  interesting  character, 
and  always  arrested  attention  when  he  spoke,  though  of 
course  with  differing  views  of  his  theories  advanced. 

McDonald  clearly  pointed  out  what  was  going  to  happen 
and  what  has  happened,  the  building  of  a  vast  overland 
and  oversea  trade  far  beyond  his  greatest  "flights  of 
fancy, "  as  so  many  of  his  pioneer  friends  were  wont  to  call 
his  teaching. 

But  the  Indian  war  came,  some  white  people  wei-e  nmss- 
acred,  some  Indians  went  on  the  warpath,  the  remainder  of 
the  six  thousand  went  to  the  reservations  and  IMcDonald's 
occupation  was  gone,  his  sloo])  was  taken  over  for  Govern- 
ment us  and  ho  himself  disappeared,  dou])tless  to  reach  an 
early  and  unmarked  grave. 

These  scenes  were  enacted  now  neai-ly  sixty  years  ago. 


Ventures  and  Adventures  377 

Tlie  thvn  silent  waters  of  Puget  Sound,  save  by  the  stroke 
of  the  paddle  upon  the  waves  and  the  song  of  the  In- 
dians, is  noAv  displaced  by  great  steamers  navigating  these 
waters;  the  overseas  tonnage  is  in  excess  of  McDonald's 
prophecies. 

The  transcontinental  traffic  that  McDonald  so  prophetic- 
ally pointed  out  is  now  almost  beyond  computation  and 
cared  for  by  six  great  railroad  systems;  the  "Oriental" 
trade  has  assumed  vast  proportions,  cared  for  in  part  by 
the  regular  sailing  of  20,000  ton  steamers;  the  coast  ton- 
nage has  grown  far  beyond  the  most  optimistic  prophecy ; 
the  "dream  of  the  star"  to  the  flag  has  come  true  for  the 
great  State  of  Washington,  as  depicted  by  the  poet : 

"For  the  land  is  a  grand  and  goodly  land, 
'  "■  And  its  fruitful  fields  are  tilled 
By  the  sons  who  see  the  flag  of  the  free, 
The  dream  of  the  star  fulfilled." 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

sketches  of  western  life. 
''The  Prairie  Schooner." 

Just  why  the  prairie  schooner  wagon  body  was  built 
boat  shape  I  have  never  been  able  to  tell  or  see  anybody 
else  that  could.  That  shape  came  in  very  handy  when  we 
crossed  the  plains  in  the  early  days,  with  which  to  cross 
the  rivers,  but  we  had  the  same  kind  on  the  farm  in  Indi- 
ana, where  we  had  no  thought  to  use  them  as  a  boat. 

Their  real  history  is,  this  type  of  wagon  was  introduced 
from  England,  and  for  a  century  this  form  was  used  be- 
cause those  that  had  gone  before  us  had  used  it,  and  it 
took  a  long  time  to  bring  about  a  change. 

These,  though,  as  the  Westerner  would  say,  "came  in 
mighty  handy,"  when  we  came  to  a  big  river  to  cross  as  we 
were  on  the  road  to  Oregon  sixty-three  years  ago. 

I  got  into  a  scraj^e  once  in  crossing  Snake  River  when  I 


Ventures  and  Adventures  379 

foolishly  put  my  whole;  running-goaf  on  loj)  oC  IJu;  bed 
and  weighted  it  down  to  within  an  inch  ol'  the  top;  J  es- 
caped, as  the  saying  goes,  "by  the  skin  of  my  teeth,"  but 
vowed  I  would  never  do  so  again,  and  I  never  did.  Hun- 
dreds crossed  over  in  their  wagon  beds  in  1852,  and  I 
never  knew  of  an  accident,  though  when  some  foolish  people 
started  down  Snake  River  they  soon  got  into  rapid  water, 
lost  all  they  had,  and  some  their  lives. 

Just  to  be  a  "doing"  as  the  saying  goes,  and  to  see  how 
it  would  look,  I  concluded  to  cross  a  river  in  m.y  wagon  box 
on  this  last  trip  when  I  drove  to  Washington,  and  let  the 
moving  picture  men  take  it.  It  was  the  Loop  Fork  of  the 
Platte  River  and  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  wide.  I 
have  the  film  and  some  days  I  showed  it  in  the  Washington 
State  Building  at  the  Panama  Exposition  at  San  Fran- 
cisco and  every  day  the  oxen  themselves  could  be  seen. 

Before  I  got  through  I  was  somewhat  like  the  little  boy 
that  went  out  a  hunting  and  got  lost,  who  said  he  was  sorry 
he  come.  We  ran  onto  a  sand  bar  and  had  to  get  out  on 
to  the  quicksand  to  push  off,  and  then,  to  cap  the  climax, 
the  current  carried  us  down  past  our  landing  and  we  had 
to  tow  up  by  main  strength  and  awkwardness,  so  I  con- 
cluded there  wasn't  so  much  fun  in  it  as  there  might  be  and 
that  I  didn't  want  any  more  like  experiences  when  past 
eighty  years.  We  got  a  good  picture,  though,  for  when 
we  got  into  the  scrape  we  forgot  to  act  and  got  "the  real 
thing." 

I  have  often  been  amused  when  asked  how  I  got  the  oxen 
over,  just  as  though  they  thought  I  could  put  a  two  thou- 
sand pound  live  ox  into  a  wagon  box.  I  didn't  take  these 
in  the  picture  at  all,  but  came  back  to  the  same  side  of  the 
river  from  which  we  started.  Not  so  in  '52.  We  had  to 
cross  with  the  oxen  also,  and  sometimes  it  was  no  small  job, 
in  fact,  more  than  to  cross  the  outfit  and  wagon.  I  was 
generally  able  to  get  all  mine  to  swim  over  in  a  bunch,  but 
I  knew  some  that  had  to  tow  over  each  animal  separate, 
and  some  were  drowned  on  the  way.  Some  streams  had 
quicksand  bottoms,  and  woe  betide  the  wagon  that  once 


Ventures  and  Adventures  381 

ji'ot  stuck.  To  .iiii;ii-(l  ;i,u;iiiis1.  this  niiiiiy  wagons  were; 
liitelu'd  tojjfcllicr  (a  team  tlioiifiii  to  caeli  wagon)  and  it 
was  a  long-,  strong  i)iill  and  a.  })iill  altogetliei".  We  liad  to 
keep  moving,  else  lliei'e  would  l)e  sei-ious  trouble. 

Some  places  the  sand  wouki  disappear  so  suddenly  the 
wheels  would  come  down  with  a  jolt  like  as  if  })assing  over 
a  rough  corduroy  road. 

Verily  the  pioneers  did  have  all  sorts  of  experiences. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

HIGH    COST   OP   LIVING. 

I  am  going  to  tell  you  the  story  of  a  public  market  of 
Cincinnati,  Ohio,  nearly  a  hundred  years  ago,  or  more  ac- 
curately speaking  of  incidents  in  which  the  farmer  dis- 
pensed with  the  service  of  middlemen;  where  the  ])roducer 
and  the  consumer  met  and  dealt  face  to  face  upon  the  side- 
w^alks  of  that  embryo  city  in  the  long  ago. 

I  am  reminded  of  the  incidents  referred  to  by  a  sti'oU 
through  the  public  markets  of  Seattle.  The  "middleman", 
those  who  bought  of  the  producer  and  sold  to  consumers, 
or  those  who  established  a  place  of  deposit  and  for  a  com- 
mission Avould  sell  the  ])roducts  of  producer  to  the  retail 
merchants,  who  in  turn  would  sell  to  the  consumer,  have 
been  berated  and  charged  with  the  crime  of  contributing 
to  the  high  cost  of  living,  hence  the  public  markets  were 
established  to  the  end  that  producers  and  consumers  might 
meet  on  common  gi-ound  and  drive  their  own  bargains. 
Here  is  what  I  found  in  the  Seattle  markets: 

Eggs  from  China ;  grapes  from  California  and  Spain  ; 
nuts  from  Brazil,  (yalifornia,  Texas  and  Italy;  lemons 
from  California  and  Italy;  bananas  from  South  America; 
tomatoes  from  ('uba  ;  peanuts  from  Japan  and  Virginia ; 
oranges  from  California  and  Florida;  grapefruit  from 
Florida ;  beef  from  Australia ;  butter  from  New  Zealand ; 
cranberries    from    New^    Jersey;    cocoanuts    from    South 


382  A  Busy  Life 

America;  oysters  L'roui  iMarylaiid,  and  so  uii  down  a  long 
list  of  various  minor  products  not  necessary  here  to  name, 
to  illustrate  the  point,  oi'  rather  two  points,  first  that  the 
pi'oducers  aiitl  eonsuiners  oonlrl  not  come  togethei-  and  must 
be  served  by  the  "middleman";  and,  second,  that  we  are 
ransacking  the  world,  even  to  the  antipodes,  for  the  prod- 
ucts of  the  earth,  in  a  great  measure  to  satisfy  the  crav- 
ings of  abnormal  appetites  incident  to  high  living. 

Any  one,  at  a  glance,  can  see  this  marshaling  of  products 
from  the  ends  of  the  earth  and  transporting  them  for  thou- 
sands of  miles  must  increase  the  cost  of  living  and  must  of 
necessity  call  for  the  offices  of  the  hated  "middlemen" 
with  their  resultant  profits.  Even  the  local  pi'oducts  were 
sold  to  a  great  extent  by  dealers  (middlemen)  and  but  few 
producers  were  seen  in  the  market.  Things  are  different 
now  from  the  prevailing  condition  of  a  hundred  years  ago, 
or  even  eighty-five  years  ago,  when  I  was  born.  The  ap- 
plication of  steam  power  for  propelling  boats  was  unknown 
then,  or  known  only  as  an  experiment,  and  hence  there  were 
no  steamships  to  cross  the  ocean  and  bring  their  cargoes 
of  perishable  freight;  no  cables  to  tap  and  with  a  flash 
to  convey  an  order  to  the  uttermost  corners  of  the  earth ; 
no  international  postal  ser\dce  to  carry  and  deliver  written 
messages;  in  a  word,  no  facilities  to  aid  in  and  thus  to  in- 
crease the  cost  of  living;  hence,  that  generation  of  a  hun- 
dred years  ago,  led  the  simple  life.  I  am  not  here  can- 
vassing the  question  as  to  which  is  the  b€tt(?r — simply 
record  the  fact.  I  will  venture  the  opinion,  however,  the 
pioneers  enjoyed  their  living  with  their  keen  appetites, 
incident  to  their  out-of-door  life,  as  much  as  the  most 
temjoting  collection  can  give  to  the  abnormal  hunger  fol- 
lowing a  gorge  of  dainties  after  a  day  of  idleness. 

It  is  well  to  note,  however,  the  fact  that  not  all  the  gath- 
erings from  foreign  lands  tend  to  increase  the  price  of  a 
particular  article.  Sometimes  the  ojiposite  resnlts  and  the 
cost  is  reduced,  but  the  general  rule  is  that  the  imported 
articles  are  simply  luxuries  and  should  be  chargeable  to 
the  cost  of  high  living  rather  than  to  the  high  cost  of  living 


Ventures  and  Adventures  383 

When  the  tariff  was  recently  revised  and  protection  with- 
drawn or  duties  reduced  on  agricultural  articles  produced 
in  the  United  States,  with  trumpets  from  the  housetops  it 
was  proclaimed  the  cost  of  living  would  be  reduced.  No 
such  result  has  followed,  as  in  fact  it  has  advanced. 

Take  the  article  of  beef  for  instance.  The  duty  was  re- 
moved, the  great  packing  firms  at  once  established  agencies 
in  all  foreign  meat  producing  countries,  the  foreign  mar- 
kets advanced  a  notch,  the  meat  baron  of  the  United  States 
took  up  the  remainder  of  the  duty  reduction,  the  govern- 
ment lost  the  revenue,  meat  at  the  block  continued  as  high 
as  ever  to  the  consumer,  the  meat  producing  industry  of 
our  country  was  discouraged  and  the  high  cost  of  living 
remained.  This  foreign  meat  produced  on  cheap  lands  and 
with  cheap  labor  is  a  constant  menace  to  our  own  meat 
producing  industry  and  will  deter  many  from  increasing 
their  bands  of  cattle,  so  that  we  may  see  prices  in  the  fu- 
ture advance  instead  of  declining,  because  of  the  reduced 
home  production. 

Take  the  item  of  eggs.  The  duty  was  removed  and  im- 
mediately shipments  came  from  China,  where  labor  is 
twenty  cents  a  day  or  less,  where  eggs  can  be  produced  at 
half  the  cost  as  here,  but  the  consumer  does  not  as  yet  reap 
any  benefit,  for  the  shipper  fixes  the  price  at  what  the 
market  will  bear;  but,  and  here  is  the  point,  there  is  the 
menace  to  deter  our  home  producers  from  reaching  out  to 
produce  more  eggs,  knowing  there  will  come  a  time  when 
prices  will  seek  a  common  level,  governed  by  the  shipments 
from  China,  our  producers  will  be  discouraged  and  go  out 
of  the  business  and  up  will  go  the  price  of  eggs  higher  than 
ever. 

The  duty  was  lowered  from  six  cents  a  pound  to  two  and 
a  half  on  butter ;  foreign  canned  milk  is  displacing  our 
home  production  and  the  dairy  interest  begins  to  feel  the 
depressing  influence  of  the  danger  that  hovers  over  it. 
Let  the  prices  drop  to  a  point  that  would  cease  to  be  profit- 
able, our  dairies  w^ould  be  depleted  and  the  foreign  prod- 
ucts take  possession  and  take  all  the  market  would  bear. 


384  A  Busy  Life 

And  so  we  find  it  in  other  agricultural  products,  to  be  con- 
sidered hereafter. 

The  point  bearing  on  the  high  cost  of  living  is  that  we 
need  to  encourage  and  not  discourage  home  production  and 
labor  and  to  get  the  producer  and  consumer  closer  together; 
also  with  our  railroads,  we  should  insist  that  they  look 
inward  and  stop  the  waste  before  being  granted  an  increase 
of  rates,  so  with  our  consumers,  before  they  outlaw  the  pro- 
ducers and  kill  the  goose  that  lays  the  golden  egg,  they 
had  better  look  inward  and  see  if  the  remedy  is  not  at  least 
in  part  witli  themselves. 

Let  us  now  look  into  the  scenes  of  the  Cincinnati  market 
of  pioneer  days.  I  will  describe  only  one  phase  of  it,  as 
handed  down  to  me  by  my  mother,  who  was  one  of  the 
actors.  My  grandfather  Baker  was  a  farmer  and  lived 
twenty-five  miles  away  from  Cincinnati  as  the  road  ran.  He 
had  settled  a  few  miles  east  of  Hamilton,  Ohio,  in  1801  or 
1802,  where  my  mother  was  born  and  near  where  I  was 
born.  In  ten  years  time  he  had  his  flock  of  sheep,  his  cows, 
pigs,  horses,  colts  and  abundance  of  pasture  on  the  land 
he  had  cleared.  I  never  could  understand  why  in  all  these 
years  he  didn't  have  a  wagon,  but  such  was  the  case.  He 
never  would  go  in  debt  for  anything.  When  my  mother 
was  twelve  years  old  she  began  making  the  trips  on  horse- 
back with  her  father  to  the  market  at  Cincinnati.  They 
carried  everthing  they  had  to  sell  on  the  horses  they  rode, 
or  perhaps  a  loose  horse  or  a  two-year-old  colt  might  be 
taken  along.  They  carried  butter,  eggs,  chickens  (dressed 
and  sometimes  alive),  smoked  meat  and  sometimes  fresh. 
Sometimes  they  would  make  lye  hominy  and  then  again 
sauerkraut;  then  again  when  hog  killing  time  came  around, 
sausage  and  head  cheese  would  be  added,  and  so  we  see 
(piite  a  variety  would  make  up  their  stock  to  offer  on  the 
market.  Noi-  was  this  all.  The  family  of  foui'  cliildren. 
were  all  gii-ls.  Tliey  were  taught  to  card  the  wool  raised 
on  th(^  fann,  .spin  tJie  yarn  and  weave  tlic  cloth  all  by  hand 
in  the  cabin  adjoining  the  living  room  and  sometimes  in  the 
living  room.     T  can  remember  tlie  hum   of  the  spinning- 


Ventures  and  Adventures  385 

whcrl  ,111(1  the  "slam"  of  llu'  loom  as  the  filling  of  cloth 
was  sent  "liom(»'',  also  the  rattle  oi;  yi-andmotlier's  knitting- 
needles  to  be  lieai-(l  oFUmi  clear  across  the  room,  which  is  a 
precious  memory.  To  the  stock  of  products  as  enumerated 
would  often  be  added  a  "bolt"  of  cloth,  or  perhaps  a 
blanket  or  two  or  a  few  pairs  of  stockings  and  often  a, 
birge  bundle  of  "cuts"  of  yarn  which  always  found  a  ready 
purchaser — wanted  by  the  ladies  of  the  city  for  their  knit- 
ting parties. 

The  youngsters  Avill  ask,  "What  is  a  'cut'  of  yarn?"  I 
will  tell  you  as  near  as  I  know.  The  yarn  when  spun  was 
' '  reeled ' '  off  from  the  spool  of  the  wheel  into  skeins  of  even 
b'ugths  of  yarn  that  could  be  used  in  the  chain  or  warp 
Tor  the  cloth  to  be  woven  or  wound  off  into  balls  for  the 
knitting.  These  "cuts"  were  the  skein,  of  even  length 
of  thread  neatly  twisted,  doubled  into  shape  as  long  as 
3'our  hand  and  size  of  your  wi-ist  and  securely  fastened  to 
remain  in  this  shape.  Sometimes  the  yarn  would  be 
"dyed"  a  buftei'nut  color  and  again  would  be  taken  to 
market  in  natural  colors  either  white  or  black;  sometimes 
a.  black  shee})"s  wool  would  serve  to  make  up  the  variety 
by  doubling  and  twisting  a  black's  and  white's  togethei-. 

The  trip  to  Cincinnati  would  often  be  made  by  moon- 
light, so  timed  as  to  arrive  at  "peep  of  day"  to  be  ready 
for  the  buyers  that  were  sure  to  come  to  meet  the  country 
folks,  for  this  was  a  real  country  market  where  no  middle- 
men appeared,  and  for  that  nndter  were  not  allowed.  My 
grandfather's  "stuff",  as  they  called  it,  would  be  displayed 
cither  on  the  sidewalk  or  in  the  street  nearby  where  his 
horses  were  munching  their  grain  or  a  bit  of  hay,  and  by 
!>:00  o'clock  they  w'ould  be  off  on  their  road  home,  to  ar- 
rive by  nightfall,  hungry  and  tired,  with  the  money  safe  in 
his  deerskin  sack. 

It  is  needless  to  add  that  this  household  was  thrifty  and 
accunuilated  money.  Later  in  life  it  was  currently  re- 
ported that  he  had  a  barrel  of  money  (silver),  and  I  can 
readily  believe  the  story,  as  he  spent  but  little  and  was 
always  accumulating.     I  know  that  more  than  a  peck  of 

2G— 1958 


88C  A  RcsY  LiFK 

tills  silver  came  over  to  Indianapolis  to  assist  in  biiyintr 
the  farm  where  I  received  my  education  in  farming  on  the 
daily  routine  of  farm  work  experience. 

And  so  we  can  see  that  the  so-called  hij^h  cost  of  living' 
is  chargeable  to  the  cost  of  "high  living",  to  the  abandon- 
ment of  the  simple  life,  to  the  change  in  habits  of  the  later 
generation,  not  counting  the  extravagant  wants  now  so 
]irevalent  that  was  unkno'\^^l  in  pioneer  days. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

THE   COST   OF    11  TGI  I    IJVIXG. 

On  the  IGth  day  of  December,  1873,  the  last  sjjike  was 
driven  to  complete  the  Northern  Pacific  Railway  between 
Kalama  and  Tacoma. 

This  Avas  then,  and  is  yet,  considered  a  great  event  in 
the  history  of  the  Northwest  country,  not  because  of  com- 
pleting railroad  connection  between  the  two  towns,  but 
because  of  the  binding  together  with  bands  of  steel  the 
two  great  arteries  of  traffic,  the  Columbia  River  and  Puget 
Sound. 

Kalama,  situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Columbia 
forty  miles  below  Portland,  was  then  simply  a  construction 
town  of  railroad  laborers,  and  has  remained  as  a  village 
to  this  day.  Tacoma,  which  then  could  boast  of  four  hun- 
di'ed  inhabitants — mill  hands,  terminal  seekers  and  rail- 
road laborers — has  now  fully  one  hundred  thousand  per- 
manent inhabitants,  engaged  in  the  usual  avocations  of 
industry  incident  to  civilized  life. 

On  the  16th  day  of  December,  1913,  the  Tacoma  Com- 
mercial Club  celebrated  "The  Fortieth  Anniversary  of 
Train  Operation  to  Tacoma,"  in  the  form  of  a  railroad 
"Jubilee  Diiinci'."  In  consideration  of  my  having  been  a 
passenger  on  that  tirst  train,  and  "possibly  the  only  sur- 
vivor of  that  passenger  list",  the  writer  received  a  cordial 
invitation  to  be  the  guest  of  the  club,  which  was  accepted. 


Vknti'kes  and  Advknturks  387 

He  occuined  a  chaii-  at  the  banquet  table,  sat  as  a  mute 
spectator,  and  listened  to  the  speeches  that  followed  the 
banquet,  and  saw  tlie  many  devices  arranged  for  entertain- 
ing the  compan3^ 

It  would  appear  unseemly  for  the  writer,  as  a  guest,  to 
criticize  his  host,  the  Commercial  Club,  for  the  manner  of 
his  entertainment,  particularly  considering  the  cordiality 
of  the  invitation.  "We  hope  that  you  can  be  here,  but  if 
you  cannot  there  will  be  at  least  one  vacant  chair  at  the 
banquet  table,  and  it  will  be  held  in  memory  of  Ezra 
Meeker,  the  pioneer  of  the  Puget  Sound  country",  this 
following  expressions  of  concern  as  to  my  health.  So,  what- 
ever criticism  may  follow  will  be  as  a  friend  of  a  friend 
and  not  in  a  facetious  spirit.  Let  us  now  consider  the 
l)an(iuet,  so  intimately  connected  with  the  subject  of  the 
high  cost  of  living,  or  perhaps  in  this  case  might  I  not 
better  say,  "cost  of  high  living",  or  for  what  might  be 
more  ai:>propriate]y  known  as  the  woeful  waste  cost  of 
living.  Covers  were  laid  for  344  in  the  large  banquet  hall, 
and  every  seat  was  occupied.  In  addition  a  large  number 
were  fed  in  overflow,  improvised  dining  halls,  the  partici- 
pants coming  into  the  main  hall  to  hear  the  speeches  after 
the  feast  was  over.  Seven  courses  came  upon  the  board, 
including  wine  in  profusion.  Fully  one-third  of  the  viands 
of  these  seven  courses  was  sent  off  the  table  and  to  the 
garbage  cans,  destined  to  soon  reach  the  incinerator  or 
sewers  of  the  city,  and  later  the  deep  sea  waters  of  Puget 
Sound,  save  one  item,  the  wine,  all  of  which  was  con- 
sumed. As  I  sat  and  mused,  to  me  it  seemed  a  pity  the 
wine  did  not  follow  the  waste  into  the  sea.  The  tables 
and  hall  were  profusely  decorated  with  flowers.  In  one 
corner  of  the  hall  soft  strains  of  sweet  music  would  issue 
from  a  band  half  hidden  from  view.  Alternately  with 
these,  in  a  more  central  position,  gifted  singers  would  enter- 
tain the  assemblage  with  appropriate  songs. 

In  one  angle  of  the  room  was  a  booth,  "The  Round 
House"  of  one  of  the  transcontinental  lines;  at  another 
point,  "The  Terminals",  and  so  on  through  with  the  four 


888  A  BufSY  Life    • 

Iraiiscoiilinciital  railroad  lines  centering-  in  Taconia,  with 
".conductors"  as  ushers,  dining  and  sleeping  ear  porters 
as  waiters,  each  appropriately  decorated  to  point  the  line 
to  which  th(\v  Isclonged. 

As  1  sal  and  mused  between  courses,  it  gi-adually  dawned 
upon  my  mind  that  this  Avas  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name  a 
■"railroad  jubilee  dinner"  and  celebration,  and  not  an  as- 
semblage to  counuemorate  pioneer  deeds  as  pioneer  days; 
that  the  "Anniversary"  date  had  been  seized  upon  to 
atliad  the  widest  possible  attendance  to  accomplish  an- 
other junpose — that  the  object  of  the  meeting  was  to  obtain 
a  hearing  for  a  "square  deal"  for  the  railroads,  in  a  word, 
to  build  u])  a  ])ul)lic  sentiment  favoring  the  increase  of 
freight  rates.  This  fact  became  more  manifest  and  more 
a})parent  as  the  program  was  unfolded  in  the  introduction 
of  five  raili-oad  magnates  as  the  principal  speakers  of  the 
evening,  followed  by  the  young  governors  of  the  States  of 
Oregon  and  Washington,  but  not  a  ])ioneer  was  called  or 
heard.  In  fact,  less  than  half  a  dozen  of  the  pioneers  of 
forty  years  ago  w^ere  present — a  whole  generation  had 
passed  in  these  eventful  years  since  1873. 

We  come  now  to  the  consideration  of  the  high  cost  of 
living  as  outlined  by  the  railroad  nuignates  in  their  plea 
for  an  advance  in  freight  rates.  The  high  cost  of  living 
had  advanced  wages;  tlie  cost  of  operating  the  railroad 
^vas  greater,  while  the  rates  from  time  to  time  had  been 
lowered  until  the  receipts  had  almost  reached  the  vanish- 
ing point  where  dividends  might  be  declared;  and  to  tlie 
])oint  where  more  capital  could  not  be  enlisted  for  better- 
ment and  extension  of  the  lines  to  keep  pace  with  the  vast 
increase  of  traffic.  Tlie  burden  of  these  si)eeclies  for  an 
houi-  and  a  half  was  for  a  higher  freight  rate  and  a  i»lea 
foi-  a  more  friendly  feeling  on  the  ])art  of  the  general 
public  towards  the  7'ailroads. 

I  had  expected  to  lieai-  something  said  about  some  method 
of  reducing  the  cost  of  living,  l)ut  nothing  whatever  was 
said  on  that  point;  or  of  economizing  in  the  cost  of  operat- 
ing  the    railroads,    hut    on    that    point    tlie    speakers    wei'c 


N^KN'IMKKS    AND    AdVKNTIIRES  389 

silciil.  Tlicsc  five  speakers  wci'c  toiicllicf  pi'oluihly  di'iiwiiiii' 
a  liuiidi'cd  tliousaiid  dollai's  aiiiiiud  salary,  hut  no  hint 
was  gi\eii  of  expecting  to  take  less.  However,  niauy  of 
the  points  were  Avell  taken,  and  ably  stated  by  the  speak- 
ers, and  received  the  serions  consideration  of  the  fonr  hnn- 
dred  bnsiness  iiicn  who  were  present,  and  of  thousands 
that  read  the  aceonnt  of  the  proceedings  pnblished  in  the 
enri'ent  issues  of  the  news})apei's  of  the  day.  1  mnsed.  U 
because  of  the  high  cost  of  living  wages  advanced,  and 
l)eeanse  ^^•ages  advajiced  freight  rates  advanced,  how^  long 
would  it  be  until  another  advance  for  all  hands  round 
^vould  be  demanded  '1  This  in  turn  brings  to  the  front  the 
question  of  whither  are  we  tending!  Some  honestly,  while 
others  with  better  knowledge  insolently,  charged  the  "Rob- 
ber Taritf"  as  the  cause  of  the  high  cost  of  living.  The 
taritf  has  been  revised  downward  and  yet  the  cost  of  living 
advances.  The  demand  for  labor  has  lessened  and  bread 
lines  for  the  unemployed  threatened,  and  with  it  the  cost 
of  loir  lirin(j  has  become  a  vital  question. 

Referring  again  to  the  banquet  room  and  to  the  woeful 
waste  going  iiito  the  sewers  of  Tacoma,  ma}'  we  not  pause 
for  the  moment  to  ask,  How  many  of  these  baufpiet  rooms, 
great  and  small,  hotels,  kitchens  of  the  idle  rich  as  well 
as  the  improvident  poor,  are  pouring  like  waste  into  the 
sewers  and  the  deep  sea  in  the  United  States?  If  all  were 
collected  in  one  great  sewer,  the  volume  would  stagger  the 
imagination.  One  authority  would  have  it  the  volume 
\\ould  equal  that  of  the  water  i)ouring  through  the  chan- 
nel of  the  Ohio  River.  Whatever  the  volume,  all  will 
realize  that  could  this  wilful  waste  of  food  be  stopped, 
that  food  would  ])ecouie  more  abundant,  the  general  public 
better  fed  while  tlie  cost  of  living  would  be  low'ered.  The 
American  people  have  this  sin  to  answer  for,  and  the  ques- 
tion will  remain  with  them  until  answ^ered  and  atonement 
made. 

May  we  not  ])roi)erly  ask  the  railroad  magnates  to  look 
inwardly  and  see  if  some  methods  of  economy  can  not  be 
introduced  in  their  uianagement  that  will  reduce  the  cost 


390  A  Busy  Life 

of  operating  while  not  lessening  the  efficienc}'  of  the  serv- 
ices. Not  one  word  was  said  l)y  the  speakers  on  this  point. 
1  do  not  allege,  that  much  can  be  accomplished  in  this 
direction,  but  I  do  say  that  it  is  incumbent  upon  railroad 
managers  to  search  the  way  and  come  before  the  American 
people  with  clean  hands  and  they  will  be  met  with  hearty 
response  for  the  square  deal.  Some  of  the  speakers  em- 
pliasized  the  fact  that  once  the  people  eagerly  welcomed 
the  railroads  until  they  got  them,  and  then  turned  against 
them  apparently  as  enemies.  The  speakers  seemingly  for- 
got the  time  when  the  railroad  managers  had  become  arro- 
gant and  acted,  some  of  them,  somewhat  as  expressed  by 
that  inelegant  phrase,  "the  public  be  damned",  and  treated 
the  railroads  wholly  as  private  property  the  same  as  a 
farm  or  a  factory  or  the  home.  One  might  easily  read 
between  the  lines  of  some  of  the  speeches  that  this  doctrine 
of  ownership  without  restriction  as  to  the  duties  due  the 
public  was  still  lurking  in  minds  of  the  men  making  them. 
These  speeches  and  kindred  efforts,  however,  will  do  a 
good  work,  will  clear  the  w-ay  for  a  better  understanding, 
and  will  in  the  end  accomplish  the  coming  together  of  the 
people  and  railroads.  More  than  once  in  the  banquet 
speeches,  government  ownership  was  spoken  of  as  the  result 
of  present  tendencies,  and  one  might  almost  saw  welcomed 
l)y  the  speakers,  anyway,  flippantly  spoken  of  as  a  possible 
if  not  probable  event.  I  could  not  help  but  feel  that  there 
was  a  vein  of  insincerity  running  through  these  expressed 
opinions,  and  that  the  words  w'ere  intended  for  effect  to 
hasten  the  day  of  reconciliation  as  between  the  public  and 
the  railroads.  To  my  mind  such  expressions  coming  from 
such  a  source  were  ill  advised.  One  can  scarcely  imagine 
a  so-called  railroad  man  that  in  his  heart  would  welcome 
government  ownership  of  railroads  in  this  great  nation  of 
freedom.  These  lines  are  penned  by  the  hand  of  one  born 
before  the  advent  of  railroads  in  the  United  States.  Per- 
haps, to  be  exact,  w^e  might  note  that  at  that  time  (Decem- 
l)er  29,  1830)  twenty-eight  miles  of  n  so-called  railroad  (a 
1]-amway)    were  in  o])erntion   in   tlio  coal   mining  district. 


Vf:ntures  and  Adventures  391 

Now  we  are  told  there  are  over  two  hundred  and  sixty 
tlionsand  miles,  requiring  a  tremendous  army  to  operate 
and  maintain.  The  day  the  policy  of  g'overnment  owner- 
slnp  of  railroads  in  the  United  States  is  adopted,  that  day 
will  see  the  germ  planted  that  will  eventually  grow  to  open 
the  way  for  the  "man  on  horseback"  and  the  subversion 
of  a  free  government.  The  reader  may  conclude  this  belief 
comes  from  the  pessimistic  mind  of  an  old  man,  and  not 
worthy  of  serious  attention.  The  writer  will  cheerfully 
submit  to  be  called  elderly,  but  will  emphatically  disclaim 
being  a  pessimist  and  will  claim  this  thought  expressed  as 
to  government  ownership  of  the  railroads  deserves  very 
serious  consideration  as  fraught  with  great  danger.  But 
this  is  a  digression  and  now  let  us  get  back  to  the  subject 
of  the  high  cost  of  living. 

A  few  weeks  ago  much  was  written  and  published  about 
the  high  cost  of  eggs.  Finally-  the  ladies  of  Seattle  hired 
a  theater  and  more  than  a  thousand  of  them  assembled  to 
listen  to  speeches  made  and  to  vote  for  resolutions  pre- 
sented denouncing  alleged  speculation  in  eggs  by  the  cold 
storage  people,  forgetting  the  fact  there  was  no  surplus 
and  that  the  law  of  suppl.y  and  demand  governed.  As 
before  written,  I  hesitated  to  criticise  mine  hosts,  the  Com- 
mercial Club,  and  how  shall  I  dare  brave  the  danger  of 
the  displeasure  of  this  particular  thousand  ladies  and  of 
millions  more  of  the  same  mind  to  be  found  in  other  parts 
of  the  land?  Notwithstanding  all  these  resolutions  and 
denunciations,  the  hens  refused  to  cackle  and  the  price 
of  eggs  advanced.  If  these  same  ladies  had,  during  the 
season  of  abundance  and  reasonable  prices  of  eggs,  pro- 
vided themselves  with  suitable  earthen  jars  and  a  small 
([uantity  of  water  glass  they  might  have  had  a  supply  in 
their  own  larders  so  near  in  quality  that  only  a  connoisseur 
could  tell  the  difference,  just  as  healthful  and  at  moderate 
price,  and  thus  contribute  one  factor  to  keep  down  the 
high  cost  of  living.  God  bless  the  fifteen  million  house- 
wives of  our  nation.  It  is  with  diffidence  I  venture,  even 
in  a  mild  criticism,  and  so  let  me  assume  the  role  to  ques- 


392  A  Busy  Life 

iidii  and  leave  eoiielusioiis  In  the  ladies  themselves.  IIow 
many  of  these  ne'er-do-well  housewives  look  closely  to  the 
garbage  cans!  I  would  ask,  Vvhat  percentage  of  the  food 
that  comes  on  to  the  table  is  carried  off  and  not  eaten — in 
a  word,  wasted  1  If  this  waste,  even  to  a  small  degree,  was 
stopped,  the  effect  wonld  be  instantly  felt,  not  only  in 
each  particular  household,  but  likewise  in  the  larger  way 
to  cut  off  a  portion  of  the  demand  in  the  markets,  and  this 
would  tend  to  lessen  the  general  cost  of  living. 

Again,  we  hear  much,  charged  against  the  "middlemen", 
as  not  only  conducing  to  the  high  cost  of  living,  but  as 
being  the  real  cause;  that  the  producer  gets  scarcely  fifty 
l)er  cent,  of  the  price  paid  by  the  consumer,  hence  a  great 
wrong  is  being  perpetrated  upon  a  suffering  public  by  a 
class  who  are  unmercifully  denounced  for  their  alleged 
wrong  conduct.  Indeed,  here  is  one  factor  that  gives  us 
most  trouble,  that  is,  I  mean  to  say  the  gap  between  the 
consumer  and  the  producer,  not  the  middlemen. 

As  with  the  ladies  and  the  eggs,  where  words  had  no 
effect,  denunciation  of  middlemen  is  ineffectual.  A  suffi- 
cient answer  to  clear  the  middlemen's  skirts  is,  that  as  a 
class  they  do  not  build  up  great  fortunes,  and  in  fact  a 
large  percentage  of  them  either  fail  in  business  or  barely 
make  a  reasonable  living. 

ft  is  the  system  we  must  look  to  for  the  real  cause  of 
our  trouble  and  not  the  instruments  carrying  out  the 
mandates  of  the  public  demand.  If  we  insist  upon  having 
the  products  of  the  farm  in  season  and  out  of  season,  some 
of  which  nuist  be  trans] )orted  for  long  distances,  cared  for. 
much  of  it  in  refrigerating  cai's  and  in  cold  storage,  all 
of  which  costs  money,  of  course  we  must  expect  an  increase 
in  the  cost  of  living.  I  am  not  decrying  against  this  so 
much  as  simply  noting  the  fact,  to  point  the  way  to  one 
real  cause  of  our  complaint.  A  more  real  cause  of  this 
great  dispai'ity  lies  with  the  consumers  M'ho  demand  their 
suppli(>s  d(^livered  in  small  portions,  always  wasteful  and 
ex])eiisive.  put  lip  in  allractive,  costly  ])ackages — all  of 
which   limsl    coine  out   of   llie    pockets  of  the  eoiisumei'S.      Ff 


Venttjrks  and  Advkntttres  393 

llic  good  Ijuly  ol'  (lie  household  t('h'[>h()ii('s  lo  her  tiTocer 
to  send  her  ;i  pound  of  some  new  named  stuff  (and  which 
comes  in  a  neat  l)nt  expensive  package),  how  can  slie  expect 
to  get  the  same  vahie  at  the  same  cost  as  if  bought  in 
original  form  and  at  the  counters?  She  must  not  only 
pay  for  the  cost  of  delivering  but  often  for  the  new  name 
of  an  old-time  material  in  a  different  dress.  It  is  the  de- 
mand of  the  consuming  public  that  makes  possible  the 
waste  of  small  purchasers  and  incidentally  the  additional 
cost  of  delivery. 

There  is  another  phase  of  this  question  of  high  cost  of 
living  that  has  so  far  received  scant  attention,  which  we 
may  properly  write  as  Fast  Living.  I  do  not  mean  this 
in  the  sense  of  the  profligate  spendthrifts,  the  joy-riders, 
the  senseless  wanderings  of  the  idle  rich  traveling  thou- 
sands of  miles  to  drive  away  the  ennui  incident  to  the  sin 
of  indolence,  although  this  has  an  appalling  effect  upon 
the  vital  question  under  consideration  and  of  the  welfare 
of  the  nation,  and  must  be  treated  in  another  chaptei*. 
What  I  mean  now  is  the  legitimate  fast  living  which  adds 
so  greatly  to  the  general  cost  of  living.  If,  for  instance, 
the  physician  using  an  automobile  can  visit  twenty  patients 
where  before  he  could  only  see  ten ;  or  the  business  man 
utilizing  this  rapid  transit  means  for  quick  dispatch  of 
business  can  transact  as  much  business  in  a  day  as  other- 
wise would  take  a  week;  travel  thousands  of  miles  where 
I)efore  he  could  make  but  hundreds,  then  he  becomes  a 
fast  liver  and  with  this  a  high  cost  liver.  If  a  locomotive 
hauls  a  train  but  twelve  miles  an  hour  (the  original  stand- 
ard of  high  speed)  manifestly  if  the  speed  is  increased  to 
sixty  miles  for  the  same  period  of  time,  the  cost  of  coal 
must  be  much  more  than  at  the  lower  speed.  And  so  with 
the  fast  liver;  his  expenditures  for  a  given  time  will  be 
far  greater  than  if  content  to  move  at  lower  speed.  This 
jirinciple  as  applied  to  individuals  is  equally  applicable 
to  communities,  and  becomes  a  factor  in  accounting  for 
the  high  cost  of  living.  We  are  as  a  nation  fast  livers,  and 
to  an  extent  high  livers,  and  must  needs  suffer  the  penalty 


394  A  Busy  Life 

of  higher  cost  of  living  than  our  forbears  who  led  the  sim- 
ple life  and  practiced  frugality  as  a  cardinal  virtue. 

Another  factor  we  are  apt  to  lose  sight  of,  and  it  is  a 
large  one,  that  of  withdrawing  so  man}^  from  the  field  of 
food  production  and  moving  them  over  to  the  side  of  con- 
sumers. Take  the  army  of  automobile  builders  as  one  in- 
stance; these  men,  with  their  dependent  families  become 
consumers,  while  engaged  in  an  occupation  that  aids  meas- 
urably in  the  opportunity  for  fast  living,  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  adds  to  the  high  cost  as  compared  with  the 
ordinary  methods  in  life.  JMany  such  instances  might  be 
named,  but  this  one  must  suffice. 

Another  far-reaching  cause — in  fact  worldwide — is  the 
vast  increase  in  the  volume  of  gold  within  recent  years 
and  consequent  decline  in  purchasing  power,  which  of 
course  carries  with  it  the  high  cost  of  commodities  ex- 
changed for  it  measured  in  dollars  and  cents.  Space  will 
not  permit  following  this  feature  of  the  question  further, 
but  it  is  one  of  the  things  that  must  be  reckoned  with  in 
i-eviewing  the  whole  question.  This,  however,  is  more  ap- 
parent than  real  and  is  entirely  without  our  control. 

And  so,  in  summing  up,  we  can  see  that  high  cost  of 
living  is  with  us  to  stay ;  that,  as  compared  with  the  simple 
life,  it  is  a  thing  of  the  past;  that  so  long  as  we  practice 
fast  living  we  must  expect  a  higher  cost;  so  long  as  •any 
part  of  a  community  insists  on  high  living,  the  inevitable 
corollary  follows  that  the  average  cost  is  advanced. 

Are  we  then  helpless  to  combat  this  upward  tendency 
in  the  cost  of  living?  By  no  means;  but  if  we  miss  the 
mark  in  our  effort  we  lessen  the  chance  of  success.  We 
must  discriminate  and  not  be  led  astray  by  false  prophets 
teaching  false  premises.  When  demagogues,  for  political 
effect,  allege  that  the  "Robber  Tariff"  is  the  cause,  one 
can  easily  see  the  fallacy  of  the  assertion;  when  honest 
people  inveigh  against  the  middlemen  as  the  cause,  instead 
of  joining  in  the  denunciation  of  a  class,  they  should  look 
inwardly  to  the  system  and  try  to  correct  the  abuse  within. 
If  wo  are  wasteful  as  alleged,  then  strive  to  stop  the  waste; 


Ventitres  and  Adventures  395 

if  we  are  extravagant,  then  lot  us  stop  it ;  if  we  are  heed- 
less in  the  method  of  making  onr  purchases,  then  let  us 
turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  begin  anew  and  each  do  his  or 
her  part  and  tlie  combined  efforts  ^\ill  have  effect.  While 
we  will  not  get  back  to  all  tlie  old-time  ways  of  the  simple 
life  (and  it  is  not  desirable  that  we  should)  yet  the  effort 
will  correct  some  glaring  defects  in  our  present  system. 
While  we  may  not  get  the  cost  of  living  down  to  the  old 
standard  (and  again  it  is  not  desirable  we  should),  yet  all 
will  agree  that  a  combined  popular  effort  would  work  a 
wonderful  change  for  the  better  in  the  direction  of  reducing 
the  cost  of  living. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

PREPAREDNESS. 

In  the  eighty-five  years  of  a  busy  life  I  have  witnessed 
five  wars  in  which  this  nation  has  been  a  party,  not  count- 
ing the  numerous  Indian  wars. 

One  of  these,  the  Mexican  war  of  1846,  was  clearly  a 
war  of  conquest,  brought  on  by  the  discordant  element  of 
the  slave  power,  then  so  dominant  and  I  may  say  domineer- 
ing in  our  councils.  Then  followed  the  dreadful  War  of 
the  Rebellion  to  settle  the  question  whether  the  United 
States  was  a  nation  or  a  loose  confederation  of  States. 

I  am  one  of  the  very  few  left  that  witnessed  the  war  of 
aggression  that  despoiled  Mexico  of  helf  her  territory, 
which  gave  us  California,  extended  our  Pacific  coast  line 
to  the  32°  30'  parallel  and  made  this  nation  a  great  world 
power,  in  fact  as  well  as  in  name. 

Who  will  dare  say  that  great  benefit  to  the  cause  of 
civilization  and  to  the  human  race  did  not  result  from 
this  war?  Who,  again,  will  dare  assert  that  the  Indian 
M'ars  of  the  last  century  did  not  likewise  result  in  the 
advancement  of  the  cause  of  humanity  and  civilization? 
And,  again,  are  there  any  now  so  bold  as  to  say  that  the 
war  prosecuted  by  the  United  States  in  suppressing  the 


:>9G  A  BiTSY  Life 

rchcUioii  (lid  not  I'csiilt  in  tlic  betterment  of  all  parties 
t'liii-agvd  in  the  conilict  .'  The  why,  as  to  these  results  I 
will  not  (liseuss  now.  but  simply  state  the  acknowledged 
fact,  to  the  end  that  we  may  more  clearl.y  see  that  the 
paeiticists'  doctrine  is  a  fallacy  and  utterlj^  impracticable 
until  after  the  advent  of  the  millennimn. 

Supi:)ose  a  thousand  pacificists  were  gathered  in  a  peace 
meeting  and  some  one  introduced  a  resolution  condemning 
all  wars,  would  they  vote  for  it?  If  not,  why  not?  If 
against  preparedness — preparedness  for  defense — it  follow's 
they  are  against  preparedness  for  war  and  prepared  to 
sing:    "I  did  not  raise  my  boy  to  be  a  soldier". 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  admitted  that  some  wars  are 
righteous,  the  query  arises,  who  would  fight  it?  like  the 
boy,  when  asked  by  a  visitor  if  he  didn't  wish  tliat  one 
of  his  brothers  was  a  sister,  promptly  responded.  "'Who'd 
a  been  her?" 

Seriously,  is  there  a  pacificist  with  American  vrd  blood 
in  his  veins,  who  will  condemn  the  war  with  Spain  to  pu1 
a  stop  to  the  atrocities  right  under  our  nose,  in  Cuba,  oi- 
the  w^ars  with  Aguinaldo  in  the  Philippines,  or  with  the 
l)irates  of  Tripoli,  or  coming  right  home  to  the  vital  spot, 
the  AVai-  of  the  Revolution  that  resulted  in  the  bii'lli  of 
this  nation?  There  is  no  middle  ground,  there  can  be 
none,  any  more  than  a  given  body  can  be  moved  in  o})])osite 
dii'cctions  at  the  same  instant  of  time. 

It  follows,  then,  that  we  who  oppose  the  pacificists  are 
in  favor  of  preparedness  for  defense  or  for  war — for  the 
two  terms  are  synonymous.  How  great  and  how  nmuerous 
llie  ships  needed  for  c-ur  navy  must  of  necessity  be  referred 
lo  experts,  for  the  avei-age  citizen  can  not  know.  How 
numerous  the  army  and  what  the  formation,  must  neces- 
sarily be  left  to  lliosc  who  have  made  the  sub.iect  a  life 
study. 

The  average  citizen  will  know  the  fundamentals  and 
join  to  cuT'b  excesses,  Ihoi'.gli  he  may  not  know  the  sj^^cials. 
We  will  know  that  if  we  are  to  meet  an  enemy  with  guns 
that   will  can-y   (i\c  miles  it   is  useless  to  oi)i>ose  them   witli 


Venttres  and  Adventures  397 

gmi.s  tlint  ciirry  hut  four,  thoiiti'li  iic  may  not  know  liow 
to  construct  the  hcttei'  arm.  lie  will  know  that  a  small 
anny,  that  can  be  speedily  mobilized,  is  of  greater  effi- 
ciency than  a  large,  unwieldy,  scattered  force  that  can 
not  be  quickly  concentrated  at  vital  points  of  danger, 
though  he  may  not  know  how  best  to  provide  the  means 
for  speedy  concentration. 

How  narrowly  we  escaped  a  third  war  with  Great  Britain 
over  tiie  Northwest  bounchiry,  now  so  nearly  forgotten  by 
this  generation,  I  personally  witnessed  on  the  San  Juan 
Island  in  the  northern  waters  of  Puget  Sound.  Again, 
how  the  Trent  affair  came  so  near  plunging  us  into  a 
desperate  struggle  of  arms  with  this  same  power,  we  of  this 
generation  can  read  in  history  and  a  few  vividly  remember, 
and  finally,  how  the  fitting  out  of  privateers  in  English 
ports  to  prey  upon  our  commerce  at  last  became  so  ex 
asperating  the  war  spirit  of  this  nation  rose  to  a  demand 
that  em])oldened  our  ambassador  to  the  court  of  St.  James 
to  utter  those  immortal  words,  ''But,  my  Lordship,  this 
is  war,"  and  it  was. 

And  then  again  how  near  another  war  with  England 
we  came  in  the  Venezuela  affair,  a  direct  result  of  the 
Monroe  Doctrine,  we  are  too  prone  to  forget. 

I  happened  to  be  in  London  when  Cleveland's  famou'-; 
message  was  received  and  witnessed  the  excitement  that 
followed,  that  with  but  a  little  more  indiscretion  woub' 
have  lighted  the  spark  for  a  worldwide  conflagration. 
Again  I  am  not  assuming  to  say  which  party  was  right, 
or  which  was  wrong,  but  simply  to  recite  the  fact  and  to 
point  to  the  fact  that  preparedness — for  England  was  pre- 
pared— did  not  result  in  war. 

And  may  I  not  point  to  another  instance  where  prepared- 
ness did  not  lead  to  war,  but  on  the  otlier  hand  averted 
war.  I  refer  to  the  French  in  ]\Iexico.  At  the  close  of 
the  Rebellion  this  nation  was  fully  prepared  for  the  en- 
forcement of  the  Monroe  Doctrine,  and  notice  to  that  effect 
was  made  manifest  and  the  French  troops  were  accordingly 
w'ithdrawn   without   a   struggle.      Without   this   prepared- 


:i98  A  Busy  Lifi: 

ness  on  our  part  the  French  troops  would  have  tightened 
tlieir  grip  upon  Mexico,  and  we  would  have  been  compelled 
to  fight,  or  else  abandon  tlie  ^Monroe  Doctrine.  If  we 
cannot  assert  our  rights,  no  other  nation  will  for  us.  If 
we  are  prepared,  no  nation  will  challenge  us.  Which  do 
the  American  people  want?  Shall  we  submit  to  endure 
as  a  nation  by  sufferance  or  shall  we  by  the  strong  arm 
maintain  our  rights? 

We  must,  likewise,  take  note  that  we  have  championed 
the  "open  door"  policy  in  China,  and  already  one  of  the 
signatory  parties  has  violated  the  compact.  Shall  we  give 
up  our  trade  with  the  Orient  or  shall  we  assert  that  we 
have  the  right  to  trade  with  China  on  tei-ms  with  other 
nations.  If  we  are  not  prepared  how  can  we  uphold  a 
doctrine  that  disputed  the  right  of  European  monarchies 
to  seize  and  appropriate  any  portion  of  either  Americas 
and  extinguish  the  right  of  free  government  of  the  western 
hemisphere  ? 

It  is  well  to  remember  that  this  Monroe  Doctrine — the 
doctrine  that  Europe  must  keep  hands  off  all  Americas — - 
is  still  held  by  this  nation  and  is  still  repudiated  by  all 
European  nations  except  England. 

It  is  also  well  to  remember  that  this  j^resent  war  to 
determine  the  question  of  the  divine  right  of  kings  to  rule 
as  the  "vice-regents  of  God"  is  directly  antagonistic  to 
our  theory  of  government  "by  the  people  and  for  the 
peo])]e",  which  becomes  a  platitude  if  we  are  not  prepared 
TO  defend  it. 

Dating  back  to  the  dawn  of  history  there  has  been  war 
in  all  the  centuries.  Wliy,  I  will  not  undertake  to  say, 
but  simply  recite  the  fact — a  condition  and  not  a  theory — 
and  a  fact  the  American  people  should  bear  in  mind. 

I   do  not  believe  preparedness  or  unpreparedness  will 
avei't  war,  but  I  do  believe  to  be  ])repared  will  avert  an 
appalling  calamity  in  the  no  distant  fulure  for  this  nation 
if  we  neglect  to  provide  1lic   incniis  of  (lefciis(>   when   at 
tacked. 


Ventitrks  and  Adventures  399 

Preparedness  of  course  lessens  tlie  danger  of  attaek,  but 
can  not  nor  will  not  avert  it. 

Another  factor,  the  congestion  of  population  of  nations 
or  likcA^nse  in  vast  cities  breeds  danger  and  eventually 
war. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

now  TO  LIVE  TO  BE  A  HUNDRED. 

Eat  to  live,  not  live  to  eat. 
Be  temperate  in  all  things. 
Live  the  Simple  Life. 
Work. 

The  End. 


Across  the 
Continent 


Ezra  Meeker,  the  famous  trans- 
continental tourist,  chooses 


Ives 


because  of  its  recog- 
nized long-touring 
ability,  easy  riding 
qualities  and  sound 
mechanical  construc- 
tion. 


The  Miles  Mai 


It  makes  no  difference  how  far  you  travel  in  "Pathfinder 
the  Great" — to  the  next  county  or  across  the  continent — for 
its  Pullman-like  riding  qualities  do  not  leave  you  dog-tired  at 
the  day's  end,  and  the  motor  purrs  as  contentedly  at  bedtime 
as  when  first  you  pushed  the  starting  button  in  the  morning. 

You  can  ride  all  day  long  in  "  Pathfinder  the  Great, "  traveling 
at  high  speed  without  realizing  any  sense  of  weariness  or  driving 
strain.  In  its  perfect  balance  and  low  center  of  gravity  lies  the 
secret  of  this  road-smoothing  quality. 

You  have  perfect  confidence  in  "Pathfinder  the  Great"  at 


No  Difference 


all  times  and  under  every  condition;  this  inspires  relaxation,  the 
only  condition  in  which  you  can  really  enjoy  long  distance 
motoring. 

The  twelve-cylinder,  valve-in-head  motor  of  "Pathfinder 
the  Great"  develops  abundant  power;  it  carries  its  full  comple- 
ment of  seven  passengers  in  perfect  comfort  at  any  speed  from 
two  to  seventy  miles  per  hour  "m  high." 

All  the  latest  super-standard  luxury  features  are  found  in 
"  Pathfinder  the  Great, "  makmg  the  car  a  masterpiece  of  beauty, 
strength  and  convenience. 


Make  an  Effort  to  See  Pathfinder  Twin  Six 

Here  are  some  of  the  specifications  that  logically  make 
"Pathfinder  the  Great"  the  Twelve  Extraordinary 


THE  PATHFINDER  TWIN  SIX  has  a  "V"  type  valve-in-head 
motor  with  cylinders  arranged  six  on  a  side.  Cast  in  blocks  of 
three,  2  7-8  inch  bore  with  5-inch  stroke.  The  motor  develops 
11  horse  power  at  2600  R.  P.  M.  The  wheelbase  is  130  inches. 
Tires  35"  X  5",  non-skid  in  rear.  Upholstering  is  of  best  quality  straight 
gram  hand-buffed  leather.  Improved  Pathfinder  one-man  top — can  be 
actually  operated  by  one  man.  Absolutely  positive  and  simple  starting, 
lighting  and  ignition,  special  Pathfinder-Delco  (largest  type).  Springs  of 
vanadium  steel — rear  springs  underslung.  This  type  costs  us  more  but 
the  extra  value  is  seen  in  the  easy  riding  qualities.  Body  finish  beautiful 
and  enduring.     Colors,  blue,  black,  wine  and  green  with  white  wheels. 

Models,  seven-passenger  touring  car,   $2,750,  and  three-passenger 
"Cloverleaf"  roadster,  $2,900.      Prices  f   o.  b.  Indianapolis. 


Pathfinder  "  Six,"  America's  paramount  six  cylinder 
car,  has  a  wheelbase  of  122  inches  and  sells  for  $1695, 
f.  o.  b.  Indianapolis. 

See  the  nearest  Pathfinder  dealer  for  demon- 
stration,  or  write  for  full  information. 


The  Pathfinder  Company 

INDIANAPOLIS,    INDIANA,     U.    S.    A. 


Ur>JlVhKJ>ll  Y  Ut  CALlhUKNIA,  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


NOV  8     19^T  \ 


aEiift 


NOV  1  1  1953 
DEC  2  7  1991 

JAN  18  1956 

JUL  1  2  1958 
y'S.     NOV  2    19^ 
INTERUBRAMY  LOAMS 

SEP  25 1973 

TWO  VVCEKS  FROM  DATE  OF  RECEIPI 

0C7 


\^c'WSm 


Uf!L 


JAi 


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2;in-2,'.<3(o:o,-.) 


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